Extra Credit
by JacAvoy85
Summary: The day that 16 year old Charles Xavier stood in front of Mr. Lehnsherr's desk, clutching his failed test in his hand, and said: "I can't fail your class Mr. Lehnsherr—I need at least one foreign language credit to get into the college I want," with those big blue eyes and pouty lip, Erik knew he was screwed. Big Time screwed.


**A/N: Major warnings for underage. Also, my knowledge on High School is a little sketchy as it has been almost ten years since I've been, so if there is anything in here that makes you go: Huh? That's why. I did as much research on-line as I could when I had certain questions arise, so it shouldn't be all that bad. (Fingers crossed)**

**Also, don't let the summary fool you—this is angsty as all hell. **

Prologue.

Charles looked at Erik through the bullet-proof glass, clutching the phone against his ear. He swallowed back the lump in his throat so he could ask: "How long?"

Looking back at Charles from the other side of the glass, Erik replied into his phone: "Fifteen years."

This time, Charles couldn't hold back the tears. "I'll wait for you," he choked out softly as he placed his hand to the glass.

.

.

.

.

Six months ago...

The day that 16 year old Charles Xavier stood in front of Mr. Lehnsherr's desk, clutching his failed test in his hand, and said: "I can't fail your class Mr. Lehnsherr—I need at least one foreign language credit to get into the college I want," with those big blue eyes and pouty lip, Erik knew he was screwed.

Big time screwed.

He knew Xavier was gay—or at least interested in boys. He'd seen him and that McCoy kid kissing in the hallway. Although he still wasn't sure what he was doing with McCoy, sure, they were both science geeks—nerds if you must, but he still thought Xavier could do better than him. Xavier might have been classified as a _nerd_ himself, but he was a different type of nerd—he was cute, innocent—he had fine features and a soft face.

The kind of face that would get Erik in a lot of trouble.

He knew better, he knew he should stay away from the kid—_Christ_—he was a kid, wasn't he? But Erik also knew he had that other side to him—that side that he wished would stay away. He wished he could blame it all on his fucked-up childhood—_his stepfather_—he really wished he could. But he knew he was just plain fucked-up in the head to begin with. He shouldn't have these thoughts about fucking _children _for Christ's sake.

But his stepfather was to blame—he had to be. Why else would Erik be so screwed up? Why else would he be following in his stepfather's footsteps? He was 31 for fucks sake—why was he attracted to a 16 year old—that can't be normal. What the hell had his stepfather done to him?

Although, Erik was younger than 16 when his stepfather got his hands on him—at least Erik's not chasing after middle schoolers.

Then again, Erik's not teaching the Eighth grade, he's teaching Juniors and Senor's in High School—he wondered if he _would_ have been after some twelve or thirteen year old boy had he chose a different route.

He doesn't like to think about that—what he's doing is already fucked-up enough. He just wished he knew how to stop.

But does he really want to stop? His life is already fucked-up beyond repair—why not just go with the flow while he's at it? What's the worst that could happen? He has nowhere to go but down from here. His job's shit, his social life is less than par, he doesn't even talk to his family anymore (and he probably won't even _after_ Shaw's dead and buried and rotting in the ground like the human scum that he is—and his mother wasn't ever any help—she never believed him."_Sebastian would never do such a thing! You have never liked him Erik—how dare you say such lies and poison about him! You just don't want to see me happy!_") and he hasn't been in a real relationship in over five years— then again, who would date him? People aren't exactly lining up to be with a sicko like him.

He's fucked-up and he knows it.

The problem is, he just doesn't care anymore.

Erik sighed. "The semesters almost over Xavier and you're really far behind—I'm really not sure what you can do at this point to catch up." But Charles just looked at him with those blue fucking eyes, tears threatening to spill over, and said: "Please Mr. Lehnsherr—I _have _to get into college,"_ I have to get away from my shitty life, from my alcoholic mother, from my abusive stepfather_, "There has to be _something_ I can do. Extra credit—more assignments—_anything_?"

And Xavier really shouldn't say '_anything'_ like that—it's not helping Erik's current situation.

Although Erik's current situation was doomed the second Xavier walked up to his desk and fixed his eyes on him. He knew the kid failed his last exam—he just didn't think the boy cared. But now, here he is—at Erik's desk—begging for a second chance—begging for Erik to not fail him. Christ, why did the kid wait this long to start caring about his grade? Did he JUST realize that most colleges require at least one, if not two foreign language elective credits to get in?

Maybe if the kid spent less time with his tongue down McCoy's throat…

Erik sighed again. He would have buried his face in his hands but that would have probably came off as unprofessional—that and the kid didn't need to know that Erik was more so struggling with that fact that he wanted to get him home and do inappropriate shit to him.

The same shit that Shaw use to do to him.

Fuck. What the fuck was wrong with Erik? Why was he like this?

He SHOULD be helping this kid get a passing grade, not debating what the best way to get into his pants was.

But then again, Erik is fucked-up—and he knows this—so he doesn't care. He just doesn't fucking care anymore. Which is why he finds himself looking at Xavier and saying: "I can give you some extra credit assignments, that will help get your grade up to at least a passing level—but your German's terrible—you'll need to be tutored as well—or you'll never pass the final exam."

Charles smiled. But it wasn't a relieved smile—it was a knowing smile. Almost a smirk. Erik felt his heart began to race. Was this kid onto him? Did he know his game? Had he caught Erik watching him in the hallway kissing that other boy? Watching him in class?

No one gives _that_ type of smile without there being a hidden meaning behind it.

Slowly, Charles reached out and placed his hand on Erik's arm—just a light touch—small, warm, chastity. But it was his words that had meaning behind them. "And are you to be the one to tutor me, Mr. Lehnsherr?" He gave the man a half smile; it was just as small as his touch.

Erik looked at the boy's hand on him. There was only one way down. He brought his eyes up to Xavier—either this kid was incredibly cunning, or incredibly naïve.

"Normally I don't offer to do private tutoring," because it's against school policy and not to mention most teacher's moral values, "but you're terribly far behind—so I'll have no other choice if I'm going to help you pass," _and I really want to fuck you over my desk because I'm just a pervert like that, god I hate my life._ Xavier smiled again—this time there was true happiness behind it. He removed his hand from his teacher's arm and took a step back.

"Thank you Mr. Lehnsherr," he said, and then he left.

Erik absolutely knew what he was getting himself into—he just didn't fucking care.

XXX

The first time that Xavier came over to his place for his tutoring, Erik half expected to find the boy clothesless, lying on his couch and crying.

So he was quite surprised when Xavier just took the glass of water out of Erik's hand, set it on the table and told Erik: "Look Mr. Lehnsherr, I think we both know where this is headed— so if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not beat around the bush for the next couple of weeks," and pulled Erik down on the couch next to him.

Erik wasn't sure what to say—what to do, really. He knew to expect SOMETHING to happen, but not _this_ soon. Shouldn't there be more of a lead up to these types of things?

He just looked at Xavier, confused, and lost. Was it really this easy? Nothing in life is really this easy—there must be a catch.

"This is NOT how you're going to earn your passing grade," was the best that Erik could come up with—because really, this was not what this shit was about.

"I know that," Charles murmured, moving in closer to Erik's space, "and I wasn't expecting it to," he then kissed Erik—slowly, attentively—with care and ease.

But Erik didn't want care and ease, he wanted fast and harsh—he smashed his lips against Charles', bringing the boy's face closer with his hand, pushing him back onto the couch as he kissed his student roughly.

_So long_—it had been so long since he'd done this—since he'd given into _the urge_, as he calls it. And that last boy was even slightly older than this one—seventeen he thinks—but that didn't matter anymore—all that mattered now was that he was doing it again, and even though it was so fucked-up, so wrong—it felt so good.

And Charles must have felt the same way, because now he was _moaning _into the kiss, moaning against Erik's lips as Erik kissed him down onto the couch. Charles broke away, panting, to tell his teacher: "I want to suck your cock," and Erik still told him that's not how he was going to earn his grade but Charles just replied with: "I know—I just really want to suck your cock Mr. Lehnsherr," and Erik knew he was fucked.

Yet he let Xavier suck him off; he let him slide down to his knees and look up at him with those blue fucking eyes right before he took Erik into his mouth and began his talented sucking.

And Erik didn't even feel the slightest bit sorry when he came down the boy's throat, tangling his hand harshly in his chestnut hair and pulling. He didn't feel bad at the small whimper he caused the boy when he thrust up into his mouth during his release, even though it clearly caused Xavier discomfort.

He didn't want Xavier to like this—he didn't want him to stay around. The last thing he needed was to fuck-up this kid's life the way Shaw fucked-up his.

He was not going to become Shaw.

So it shocked Erik when Xavier stayed. He climbed up on the couch and kissed Erik, bringing his hands up to cup his teacher's face as he pressed more into the kiss. And Erik kissed back, of course he kissed back—he was weak.

Charles removed his hands, pulled back and looked profoundly into Erik's eyes. "You have a lovely cock Mr. Lehnsherr," he said and Erik told him not to call him that.

Although having Charles call him Erik wasn't any better.

They both lay together on the couch, Charles burying his face in Erik's neck and smiling and Erik said: "You had a fucked-up childhood too, didn't you?" it wasn't a question—it was obvious.

But Charles just buried his face more, still smiling and replied: "Didn't we all."

...

The second time Xavier came by for his lesson was after school in Erik's class. He gave Erik a blowjob at his desk and Erik still told him: "This isn't how you're going to pass," as he used his hand to bring Xavier's head closer with every bob.

Charles pulled off just long enough to say: "I know, and I really need to get into college—so maybe this time you can actually teach me something," before he went back to sucking. Erik gripped both his desk and Xavier's hair when he came down the boy's throat—the kid sure was making it difficult for Erik to try and keep him away when he could suck cock like _that._ He wondered just how much experience the kid had under his belt and then realized it was best not to know.

He watched, boneless in his chair, as Xavier cleaned him up, licking any and all traces of come from Erik's cock before he put it away and zipped Erik back up.

"You're going to be the death of me Xavier," he said, still watching his young student below him and Xavier just looked up and said: "Don't call me that." And Erik knew it was the beginning of the end.

…

A few days later when Erik asked Charles to stay after class, simply to tell him he did well on his extra credit assignment, he was shocked to see the boy sink to his knees in attempt to give him yet another blowjob.

In the middle of a fucking school day.

"Christ Charles!" Erik snapped at him, pulling the boy up by the upper arm and looking towards his open door—anyone could have fucking seen them. "What are you doing?" He hissed at him and Charles just looked like a kicked puppy and said: "I thought that's why you wanted me to stay after," with equally sad eyes. Fuck.

This time Erik did bury his face in his hand, and then drug that hand slowly down his face as he looked at Charles—he still had a tight grip on the boy's arm so he let go quickly—before anyone saw their inappropriate contact.

"You cannot give me a fucking _blowjob_ in the middle of the school day Charles— with my door open! I could lose my job—I could go to fucking jail! Do you not understand the seriousness of this?"

But Charles just knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "Then why are you doing this?"

Erik sighed. "The same reason you are."

XXX

"Please Erik—please, I want to—I want _you_ to," Charles kissed his teacher's neck, straddling him on his couch.

"You're not ready," Erik replied, gripping onto the brunet's slender hips as he tipped his head back and let his student mouth hotly all over his neck and jaw.

"But I want it."

"You don't know what you want."

"I want you."

Erik brought his eyes up to meet Charles'. Still so fucking blue damn it. "If you can count to twenty in German, I'll fuck you." And god did he want to fuck Xav— _Charles,_ he wanted to fuck the boy so bad, but at the same time he wanted the boy to run away, run away and never look back.

This kid was going to ruin his life like Erik did, and Erik was going to help.

"Twenty?" Charles complained, "You know I _ca_n't do that." He ground down in Erik's lap, rutting against the man's erection. "Please Mr. Lehnsherr," we whispered against his teacher's neck.

"I told you not to fucking call me that."

"I just want to feel your cock inside of me."

"Then count to twenty."

Charles _groaned_ against his neck, and then thumped his forehead down to Erik's broad shoulder. "You know I can't," came his muffled voice. He turned his face to the side. "I could probably count to ten—that's the best I could do." He rocked against Erik's erection again.

It was too much. The sensation of Charles' ass against his rock-hard cock was enough to drive him mad, and it didn't help matters every time his student grinded down against him. The kid knew what he was doing to him. Erik bit out a gritty "fine," and told him he had to count perfectly to ten before he'd fuck him.

"Eins…" Charles placed a kiss to Erik's neck, "..zwei…" a lick, "..drei.." another kiss, Erik moaned, "..vier, funf.." Charles ground his ass down against Erik's cock again, "…sechs," he gasped out against Erik's neck when the man thrust up against his ass, "..sieben.." he whispered, he was getting closer and Erik knew it, "…acht," Charles brought his face up to meet Erik's and Erik just looked at him with utter abandon, "…neun.." he pressed his forehead to Erik's, "..zehn," Charles brought their lips together.

Erik took Charles from behind, fucking him into the couch. He did not want to look into those soul-stealing eyes—he was afraid they would judge him.

"Harder Erik," Charles panted out, gripping the edge of the couch and the armrest, his face turned to the side so that he could breathe. Erik pounded into him, and no matter how rough he was, how hard he smacked the boy's ass, how tightly he gripped his hips, Charles just seemed to want it even more.

"_Erik_," he moaned out his name like it was the only word that he knew and Erik only fucked him harder—snapping his hips and gripping onto Charles' waist with intent of leaving marks. Erik grabbed the boy by the back of the hair and brought him up on all fours, forcing Charles to place both his hands on the armrest as he plowed into him.

"Curve your back in," Erik rasped at him and Charles complied.

His hands fit perfectly around the boy's waist as he pulled Charles back onto him, forcing the younger man to skewer himself onto Erik's cock repeatedly.

When Erik came, he grunted out a German curse word, hoping Charles didn't take note, and buried his cock deeper into the young man's ass as he pulsed into it.

And then he stayed there for a moment, balls deep inside of his student.

"Did you get off Charles?"

The boy looked back at him and shook his head, his face was all flushed and sweaty and Erik couldn't help but stare.

"Then why did you want me to fuck you?"

Charles just shrugged, still breathing ragged. "Because I wanted to know what it felt like."

Erik had to resist the urge to shove the kid off him. "You're a fucking virgin?"

"Not anymore."

Christ. Erik placed one hand against the back of the couch and pulled out. Fucking Charles. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He sat down and Charles turned around to join him.

"If it's all the same to you," Charles said as he laid his head on Erik's thigh, looking off towards the t.v, "It felt good either way," he then rolled his head and looked up at his teacher, "Would you mind terribly if I used your restroom to jerk-off?"

"Jesus Charles," Erik bit out lowly. He reached his hand down and took Charles into it and began stroking. Fucking stupid kid.

When Charles came, he breathed out Erik's name and re-buried his face in the man's thigh. Erik sat there naked, with come on his hand, his student's face in his lap and the only intelligent thing he could think of to say was: "You didn't take it like a virgin."

This made Charles smirk. He turned his head to face up towards Erik. "I've been practicing on myself—I knew you had a big cock so I used four fingers."

Erik wasn't sure whose statement was more ridiculous.

…

Erik knew he was in trouble the day he saw Hank come up to Charles in the hallway and try and kiss him. Charles pulled back and told the other boy kindly: "I'm seeing someone Hank—I'm sorry."

The boy with glasses looked crushed, he glanced over towards Mr. Lehnsherr and Erik looked away quickly.

It was almost too close.

…

The day Erik panicked was the day one of his seniors came to him, asking if there were anything she could do to get a better grade.

Erik just stared at her—his heart pounding in his chest.

"Please Mr. Lehnsherr—I can't fail your class—there has to be _something _that I can do to get a better grade." She placed her hand on the edge of Erik's desk and leaned in a bit, a soft smile on her face.

That night, when Charles came over, Erik pushed him up against the wall.

"Who have you _told_?" He sneered at his young student. Frightened, Charles just looked wide eyed at his teacher, who was still gripping him tightly by his upper arms as he held Charles against his wall.

"Who have you _told_ Charles?" He demanded to know again. If it was that McCoy kid Erik would fucking kill him. He was not going down because of that dweeby geek's crush on Charles.

"No one," Charles finally got out, staring straight at the fear in Erik's eyes, "_no one_ Erik, I swear."

"Well someone _knows_," He released his hold on the young man and walked over to his kitchen. He needed a fucking drink after that. "_Someone_ knows Charles," he said as he brought down two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

"How?"

"I don't know," Erik said, looking back towards Charles as he removed the top of the bottle, "but someone has to know—I got another _offer _today." He poured a small amount of liquor into each glass.

"What do you mean by _offer_?" Charles wanted to know, spike of jealously in the pit of his stomach.

Erik brought over both glasses, handing one to Charles before taking a seat on the couch. Charles joined him. "Another one of my students," Erik started slowly, voice low. He brought his eyes up to Charles, "She came to me—asked if there was _anything_ she could do to get a better grade."

Thinking about this for a moment, Charles set his own glass down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. He ran a hand through his hair and let it flop to his side before he looked over at his teacher. "But she didn't say she _heard_ anything about you helping students, did she? Maybe she was just trying to seduce you—who's to say she had to have heard anything for her to try that?" Erik didn't look at him; he just went back to staring down at the drink in his hand.

"Did you?"

Erik furrowed his brows in question at that, still looking at his glass.

"Did you fuck her?" He clarified.

This finally got Erik to look up. He _glared _at his student.

"Sorry, just had to ask." Charles looked straight ahead. "If I haven't told anyone, and you haven't told anyone—I don't think we have anything to worry about," he looked at Erik. "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"The fuck do you think?"

"I didn't think so," Charles mumbled as Erik knocked back his drink. "Do you want to fuck me? Would that make you feel better?"

"Fuck Charles," Erik arched over himself, forearms on his thighs as he clutched on his now empty glass. He looked over at Charles and Charles moved closer—his eyes soft and wanting. He did not smile though.

"In my bed this time," Erik said gruffly.

"Will you look at me?" Charles asked with a hushed voice as he moved his face closer to Erik's neck.

Erik sighed. "Yes, I will fucking look at you Charles."

…

Looking into his student's eyes nearly tore Erik's soul out. Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's back as the man drove into him, fucking him down into the mattress. He scratched his nails down Erik's back and Erik just fucked him harder.

"I want you to come this time Charles," Erik rasped out against the boy's neck.

"Then you're going to have to touch me, I can't do it just from this," the brunet gasped out and tipped his head back as Erik nipped at his neck.

"Bullshit," Erik retorted, bringing his body up to a kneeling position. He gripped Charles' thighs, "I just haven't got you at the right angle yet," and hoisted the boy's body up more, driving his cock into him at a few different angles. When Charles _moaned_ out loudly, Erik said: "There we go," and continued to brush his cock over that spot continuously until his young student was crying out helplessly and making a mess all over himself.

Erik marveled in watching Charles soil his stomach—parts of him wanted to reach down and rub his hand in it—smear it more into the boy's soft skin.

But he didn't. He wouldn't do that. He wasn't _him_.

When Erik came, he gripped onto Charles' thighs strongly, hoisted the boy up more and snapped his hips as he filled him up with his come until his movements were slowed down and nothing but shaky, off centered thrusts.

He collapsed onto Charles, getting the boy's semen all over himself in doing, and looked deeply into his blue eyes. "Was that better?"

Charles simply smiled, looking up at his German teacher. "Just marvelous."

…

"I think I love you Erik," Charles had said one evening, two weeks or so later, as they lay tangled in bed together. Erik was lighting a cigarette. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and told Charles: "You don't love me—that's just the post-orgasm talking." Charles was too young for this shit—he didn't know what love was.

Not that Erik knew any better.

"No, I really think I love you," Charles said, tipping his head over to look at the man beside him. Erik removed the arm that Charles was using as a pillow and pushed himself up in bed to a seated position while he smoked. "Christ Charles, you don't _fucking_ love me." He took a drag of his cigarette.

"Erik, I've had your cock in my ass at least six times over the past two and half weeks—I think I'm entitled to know if I love you or not." Charles said as he turned on his side and propped his head up with his hand. "And you shouldn't smoke—it'll kill you."

"Good," Erik said as he blew out another cloud, "The sooner I go the better—for everyone."

Charles frowned. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"Are you staying the night?" Erik asked over at him, ignoring his question, "Cause' if so, I don't want breakfast in the morning—don't fucking make me breakfast in the morning."

Shaw use to make him breakfast in the morning, after-

"Alright, I won't make you breakfast…" Charles said, looking at his teacher oddly. "I was hoping you'd finally let me stay the night," he muttered.

Stubbing out his cigarette, Erik rested his head against the backboard. "Do you have to tell your fucking parents or something? You got some sort of curfew?" Most 16 year olds did.

Charles nearly snorted, pushing himself up and coming closer. "My parents could care less where I am right now." He looked straight ahead as well, using Erik's chest as a pillow.

Putting his arm around the young brunet's shoulders, Erik just muttered: "That's right, I forgot," plainly. Charles sighed and closed his eyes, burying his face against Erik's skin as he relaxed into him. "Good night Erik."

"You're not fucking going to sleep like this."

"Fine." Charles rolled off him and turned his back to his teacher, settling more into the bed. "I love you."

Erik laid back down himself, pulling the covers up and over the both of them. "No you fucking don't Charles."

"I do," he replied with a muffled voice as sleep began to take over.

Silence.

"If you fucking snore—I'm kicking your ass onto the ground."

…

When Erik awoke the next morning, he unintentionally found himself with a 16 year old brunet on his chest.

He shoved Charles off of him. "G' way from me," he muttered. Erik Lehnsherr does not fucking cuddle. He looked over at the boy and-

Damn it.

That look—that fucking look the younger man was giving him from being rejected, from being shoved away so harshly.

It was the same look he use to give-

"Charles I'm sorry," he sighed, reaching for the boy. "Come here," he said as he held his hand out. "You like to cuddle?" Charles just nodded wordlessly, wetness forming in his eyes.

"Fine. I'll give you five minutes," Erik said. Charles scooted back closer to his teacher, resting his head gently down on Erik's bear chest. "Thank you," he told the man dimly.

"I don't like to fucking cuddle, just so you know." Erik shifted his eyes down to the boy, "So don't get use to this," he told him unkindly. But Charles didn't say anything; he just closed his eyes and let out a soft breath.

Fuck, Erik thought, his parents mustn't have held him enough as a child.

…

"Why are you still here?" Erik asked sometime around 9:30am. He looked at his student on the couch.

Charles shrugged. "I have nowhere else to go today."

"You could go home."

Another shrug. Charles looked back to the t.v. "Don't wanna go home." There's nothing for him there.

"Well you can't stay here."

"I didn't make you breakfast," the brunet turned his head to face Erik, "like you asked."

Erik didn't know what to say—clearly the boy was trying to change the subject. He does that a lot. It's quite fucking annoying actually.

"Whatever," Erik mumbled as he turned to walk away. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"You wanna have sex?" Charles called out after him. He looked at Erik's back.

Stopping, Erik's shoulders slumped. He sighed, and then looked back at his student. "Shower."

Charles smiled. "I like shower sex," he told the older man.

"You've never even had shower sex," Erik snapped at him, but not too harshly. This kid knows nothing of the real world. He only knows what he sees on t.v.

Shrugging again, one shouldered this time, Charles just replied: "I like any sex with you."

"Whatever," Erik mumbled again, followed by: "Five minutes."

Looking at the t.v, Charles smirked. "I'll be there."

…

"Jesus Charles, hold still," Erik gritted out as he used one hand to hold his student against the shower wall and the other to probe his fingers inside of him.

Looking back over his shoulder, Charles just panted, "I'm sorry—I'm just very excited." He pressed his temple to the cool tile wall. "I'm ready Erik," he told the man as water streamed down his body, "just fuck me already, please."

"I'll tell you when you're ready," Erik snapped at him and then went silent. He twisted his fingers more. "You're still too fucking tight," he muttered.

"That's good right?" Charles gasped, placing both hands against the wall and closing his eyes as Erik twisted his fingers in more.

Good—bad—wonderful—terrible—all the same to Erik. It didn't fucking matter anymore.

"Yes Charles," Erik grit out, still stretching out Charles' hole, "It's good that you're tight—but at the same time I don't want to tear you," he slid his fingers out. "We wouldn't be able to have sex for awhile."

"Oh," Charles said softly, looking back over his shoulder to his teacher, "That wouldn't be good." He would be devastated if Erik starting fucking someone else because he was out of commission.

"Turn back around and face the other way," Erik told him, "I can't look into your eyes when I fuck you anymore." Charles frowned.

"Why?"

Shaw use to look into his eyes, and especially the times when Erik was crying and-

"I just can't," Erik ground out. He forced the smaller man's head back around to face the wall and used his other hand to grip onto Charles' wet hip.

"Are you not attracted to me?" Fuck, now Charles sounded sad again. "Are you thinking about someone else while you fuck me?" Another student? Erik sighed. He was beginning to lose his patience's with this kid. How low of self-esteem did Xavier have?

"Of course I'm fucking attracted to you Charles," Erik told him with annoyance. Fucking high schoolers—all they care about is their appearance.

"Then why won't you look at me?" Charles asked the wall.

"Do you want me to fuck you or not Charles?" Erik was trying really hard not to yell at the boy. He knew he was going through enough as is.

"Please."

"Then face the wall and shut up," he told him as he moved his hand down and guided his cock to Charles' entrance. "Spread your legs more and bend over," he muttered. Complying, Charles stepped his feet apart and stuck his ass out more towards his teacher. "Perfect," Erik mumbled and then poked his cock up into the boy's ass. Charles let out a keening sound and pushed back more into Erik, forcing in even more of his cock.

"Christ Charles," Erik rasped out, "you don't have to cram it all in at once," he tightened his grip on his student's hip—his hand leaving his cock and joining on the other side of Charles' waist. He drew Charles more back onto him and began thrusting.

"I want it all in me at once," Charles gasped out, turning his face back to look at his teacher.

But Erik was only looking down, watching as his cock entered and left Xavier's ass. He picked up pace and Charles moaned out again. "Turn around Charles," Erik told him—he could feel the boy's eyes on him. Charles turned back around and pressed his cheek against the shower wall, gasping out as Erik thrust into him more.

Fucking up into someone was more difficult than originally thought to be—Erik tried to lower himself down more to get the angle he desired but Charles' height difference made that too difficult. If Charles were only a little bit taller…

"Fuck Charles, this isn't going to work."

Looking back at the older man, Charles asked him: "Would you rather I suck your cock?"

God that sounded fucking tempting. Half the shit that came out of that kid's mouth sounded fucking tempting.

"No," Erik grit out, "I already have my cock in your ass, just… bend over more." He drew the boy back by his hips and gave him enough room to place his hands on the edge of the bathtub.

And Erik never thought he'd get use out of a shower/bathtub. Who the fuck takes baths anyway?

Charles was now looking down at the bathtub facet as Erik fucked into him—water running all down his body and dripping off his face.

"Fuck," Erik huffed out, "feels so much better," he snapped his hips into the boy below him. "Is that good Charles? You like that?" He'd better fucking like it—Erik could've taking him up on his blowjob offer instead.

"Yes," Charles rasped out, taking his pounding from behind. Erik's thrusts were becoming more erratic over time—Charles swore the man was trying to ruin sex for him.

Or, for anyone after Erik.

Not that Charles thought there'd be anyone after him.

"Touch yourself," Erik commanded on a breath—Charles could tell his teacher wasn't going to last much longer. He reached under himself and starting stroking his cock.

"I want you to hit my prostate again," Charles gasped out, working his hand over his cock quicker. Fuck Erik's cock felt so good in him—the man knew exactly what he was doing with it.

"Damn it Charles," Erik said with annoyance, he slowed his thrusts, "I don't have time for that," he told the younger man and then retightened his grip on Charles' hips and started thrusting again. He was so fucking close.

"_Please_ Erik," Charles moaned out—practically begging the man.

Erik grunted.

"Please _Mr. Lehnsherr_," he tried again.

This time Erik stopped all the way—he grabbed Charles by the back of the hair and brought the boy's ear to his mouth. "I told you not to fucking call me that _Xavier_—you call me that one more time I swear to fuck I'll backhand you," he said through grit teeth before pushing the boy forward again. Charles barely caught himself on the slippery tub and Erik went back to plunging into him harshly.

Closing his eyes, Charles took the fucking that Erik was giving him. He reached back under himself and found his cock again.

Charles wasn't sure who came first—he thought he might have, but it could have been Erik. Hell, they might have even came at the same time—if that shit actually really happens.

If you ask Erik, he'll tell you it fucking doesn't.

Still panting, Charles kept his eyes down and focused on the drain. He watched as his seed was taking away with the water. Soon after, he felt Erik pull out—he always feels Erik pull out—the man always does it so harshly.

Charles briefly wondered if Erik even liked having sex with him.

If the come running out of his ass and down his leg was any indication, Charles should've known that was a yes—but it still didn't stop him from asking (again): "Do you think of someone else when you fuck me Erik?" as he brought himself upright and looked into his teacher's eyes.

Erik wanted to push his student down—tell him to shut-the-fuck-up and not ask such dumb shit. But he didn't—he never liked it when Shaw use to shove h-

"Christ Charles, why do you ask such stupid questions?" Was the best he could do. He really didn't want to hurt Charles.

"I thought no question was a stupid question."

"Whoever came up with that saying clearly never taught high schoolers," Erik grumbled. That shit's something that elementary teachers tell their students so they actually ask fucking questions in class.

"Is that a no then," Charles questioned, "you don't think about other people?"

Jesus Christ.

Erik ran a tired hand down his face. Fucking teenagers. "Get out Charles—I'd like to actually take a shower now." Charles just blinked at him. "I was hoping to take a shower as well." At this rate, neither of them would get a proper shower—the goddamn water would go cold. Erik resisted the urge to let a German profanity leave his mouth as he palmed his eye. Fuck Charles was a clingy little shit.

What the hell did his parents do to him as a child? Lock him in a closet?

"Fine," he bit out, "just stay over there until I'm done under the faucet." He reached for the soap and turned back to Charles after a moment. "And don't try and fucking help me—I don't need help." He didn't like help—not in the shower—not ever.

Saying nothing, Charles just watched as Erik cleaned himself. He was learning more and more about what Erik _didn't_ like, and not so much about what he _did_ like. Erik needed to work on that if their relationship was going to survive.

And if only Erik knew that Charles thought what they had was a relationship—he'd probably fucking laugh.

Or cry.

…

"Why are you still here?" Still.

Charles rolled his head over the armrest and glanced at Erik. He shrugged. "It's Saturday—I have nothing else to do." Nothing that would matter anyway. And it appeared that Erik didn't have shit to do either. Charles didn't see the problem here.

"Don't most teenagers go out on a Saturday night?" Go drinking, go to clubs, ride around in cars—do shit they're not suppose to. And not shit like fuck their 31 year old teacher and then hang around his apartment all afternoon and evening—other type of shit, like breaking into places or hang around and get high at the bowling alley. Erik frowned down at his student. Does he have any fucking friends come to think of it?

Shrugging again, Charles simply turned back to the t.v. "Not much for going out—there's really nothing to do." What the fuck is he supposed to do? He's not old enough for the bars or clubs, and he's too old for shit like skating rinks and hanging around the mall. And he tries to steer clear of crap like getting involved with drugs, he has enough problems in his life as is—last thing he needs is to get drugs involved.

"Don't you have any friends?" Erik really needed a cigarette for some reason.

Hank, maybe. "Not really." He looked back to his teacher as the man popped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it.

Sweet nicotine.

"Wonderful," Erik said dryly as he inhaled. That was another thing they had in common it would seem. He exhaled smoothly, noticing his student watching him with rapt attention.

"What?"

"Can I have one?" The brunet motioned to the cigarette in Erik's hand.

Why does this kid ask such stupid questions? Erik just took in a long drag and exhaled before answering. "You're a fucking twat Charles." Kid's trying to kill himself—doesn't he know the dangers of smoking?

"Is that a yes?"

Erik took another drag before stubbing it out in the ashtray on the end table. "I thought you said smoking was bad for you," he said on the exhale, smoke blowing up into a stream before dissipating around him.

The brunet studied the man for a second. "I did," he told Erik, "but you make it look cool."

Fuck Xavier needed help.

…

"If you're staying for dinner," Erik said after a couple hours, "you'd better get in the kitchen and make something—I normally just order out…or don't eat." Whichever was simpler at the time.

So that's why he's so skinny, Charles thought before he remarked: "So dinner's okay for me to make—just not breakfast." Charles is learning.

Dinner didn't bother Erik; Shaw was never around for that—he was already out at the bars by that time. No— it was the times _after_ dinner that Erik dreaded. Those were the times that Shaw would come home drunk and slip into Erik's room, place his hand over his mouth and-

"No," Erik said suddenly, "Dinners fine." He looked at Charles. "You do know how to cook, don't you?" He really fucking hoped Xavier knew how to cook.

Sitting up, Charles just shrugged again (Erik swore if the kid shrugged one more time he'd throw something at him. Shrugging wasn't allowed in his house growing up—not after Shaw moved in that is), "Yeah—I can cook. Nothing fancy though." He met Erik's eyes. "What do ya got?"

Erik almost shrugged himself—but stopped. "Just basic shit—bread, eggs, cheese, butter, probably some ground beef in the freezer—pasta maybe." Christ, did the man ever eat? How do you not know what's in your fucking fridge?

"I could make us some grilled cheese sandwiches," Charles offered.

He caught himself again. Fuck this boy was starting to rub off on him. "That's fine."

…

"Stop shrugging," Erik finally lost his patience. He was sick of every question he asked Xavier being met with a damn shrug.

Charles looked puzzled at his teacher. "Why?" Always with the fucking questions. Goddamn teenagers— this was why Erik never wanted kids.

Well… that and other reasons.

"Because it's lazy—it's not _proper_," it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Charles just looked at the older man. "Nothing we're doing here is proper Erik."

…

"You're staying the night again, aren't you?" Erik had already admitted defeat. At least the boy was quiet and stayed out of his way for the most part.

Except for when they fucked. Erik thought they were already up to four times that day. What the fuck else were they gonna do? Talk?

"Do you mind?" Charles was playing a game on his cell phone—or texting—whatever fucking teenagers do these days.

"Your parents really don't give a shit where you're at?"

Charles didn't even look up. "They really don't give a shit."

…

"Would you ever suck my cock?" Charles asked over to Erik. He was trying to read or something, but that didn't seem to deter Charles.

"Probably not," Erik answered without putting his book down.

Charles frowned. He wasn't surprised though, not really. "Why not?"

Fuck with all the questions? Why should Erik, Shaw never-

He placed his book down and looked to his student. "You want me to suck your cock?" Erik asked wryly.

Charles nodded.

Christ. Erik nearly rolled his eyes. "Fine," me muttered, pulling the covers back and reaching for Charles' (well, technically Erik's) sleep pants.

"Wait," Charles said with a hand to Erik's. "How about a little warm-up first," he shot his teacher a look, "haven't you ever heard of foreplay?" Christ, he wasn't even hard yet—whoever heard of just going for it? He may be a teenager, but a little bit of foreplay goes a long way.

This time Erik did roll his eyes. "Fuck Charles—what do you want to do? Make-out?" Erik didn't even make-out as a teenager.

He didn't have time.

"Well yes, a little bit of foreplay would be nice Erik," Charles chided at his teacher. He shot the man a wryly look.

"Christ," Erik muttered. He dragged a hand down his face—what was this kid doing to him? Fine. He wanted to _make-out_? They could make-out. Erik reached for Charles' face and pulled him into a rough kiss, forcing his tongue in and smashing their mouths together.

Charles pulled back suddenly. "Jesus Erik," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why does it always have to be so rough with you?" He looked at his teacher. "Who taught you how to kiss?"

Shaw.

Erik just shrugged (damn Charles—he _was_ rubbing off on him) "I don't know—I like it rough." Charles didn't need to know about Shaw—not yet. Or ever.

"Well, come here," Charles said gently, "It doesn't always have to be so… harsh," he placed a hand to Erik's cheek, "Just…kiss me softly," he murmured as he closed the distance between their lips. Erik started to push into the kiss again— out of habit— but Charles' soft lips slowed him down and he allowed his young student to control the kiss.

They kissed delicately—tenderly—almost lovingly, but Erik refused to call it that. Kissing was just fucking kissing—he didn't see what the big deal was.

When Charles pulled away carefully, he let out a soft moan from his throat—looking up at Erik with drugged eyes. "That was nice," he murmured, still so close to the German's face. Erik resisted the urge to ask: are you ready yet? He may be blunt, but he's not an ass. So instead, he reached down and cupped Charles' crotch, checking for the boy's erection.

Charles was practically there—good. Erik continued to rub Charles' steadily hardening cock and the boy moaned quietly before sealing him and Erik's lips back together. And again, Erik allowed his student to take charge of the kiss—letting Charles meld their lips together sweetly.

"You're a good kisser Erik," Charles mumbled out against the older man's lips once he pulled back. Erik had nothing to say to that. He didn't so much feel as if he was kissing Charles as he was so much just letting Charles move his mouth against his.

Fucking kissing was stupid anyway.

This time Erik did ask: "Are you ready Charles?" But he asked it kindly, almost delicately—as not to make the boy think he was rushing it.

Shaw use to rush it.

Nodding, Charles placed one more sweet kiss to Erik's lips before he laid back against the bed. He propped his head up on two pillows and watched in anticipation as his teacher leaned down and slowly began removing his pants.

Charles' cock bobbed out, jutting up towards Erik as he discarded the teenager's pants. Erik took Charles into his hand and began stroking—hoping that would help make him not last too terribly long. It had been ages since he'd done this. In fact, thinking about it now, his last time had been with-

Taking Charles' cock into his mouth, Erik closed his eyes and began sucking. Quickly too. He worked his mouth up and down over Charles' shaft, drawing out every last moan he could from his student. Charles reached down, gasping, and cupped Erik's cheek. "Look at me Erik," he said softly, another gasp tumbling from his lips, "I want to see your eyes."

God damn Charles. Erik opened his eyes and flashed them up at the younger man. A shape inhale came from the brunet the second his eyes met Erik's. He tangled his other hand in his hair and helped Erik's bob along.

But Erik pulled back. "Don't." He glanced up at Charles, "Not in my hair," he told him. Charles wanted to say: What? Another thing you don't like? But he just nodded wordlessly and watched as Erik when back to sucking his cock. He didn't want to screw this up—he had no idea if and when his German teacher would ever do this for him again.

"God Erik," Charles moaned out once Erik picked up pace. He looked down at the man below him and watched as his cock disappeared and reappeared from his teacher's mouth. He certainly was talented at this—that was for sure. It seemed a shame to waste such talent. Charles lightly began bucking up into Erik's mouth—hoping that too wouldn't upset the older man. But Erik seemed to have allowed it, so Charles kept it up—he gripped into the bed sheets, since Erik wouldn't let him near his hair, and moaned out longly.

"Gonna come Erik," Charles rasped out—knowing his teacher would want to know. Erik bobbed his head a few more times before pulling up off Charles' cock. He wrapped his hand around the boy and jerked him through his release.

Erik had swallowed enough cum in his lifetime. It was never enjoyable.

Charles keened out as his orgasm rocked through his body—his cock shooting out his seed hotly and coating Erik's fist.

He had a feeling the man wouldn't have been following through with his mouth until the end.

He didn't blame him though—not everyone likes sucking cock as much as he did.

"Fuck," Charles breathed out. He let his head flop back against the pillow as he caught his breath.

After a moment, he looked back down at his teacher. "Shall I do the same for you?"

Erik looked up at him. "The fuck do you think?"

…

"Fuck Charles," Erik ground out, "_faster_." He tightened his grip on Charles' shaggy hair. He wanted to pull it—pull it hard—make the boy cry out.

But he didn't.

Charles bobbed his head up and down faster—taking all of Erik's cock into his mouth he could. He flashed his eyes up at his teacher, causing the older man to groan out and tighten his hold even more.

Fuck those eyes.

This time Charles did whimper. He pulled off Erik's cock with a gasp, panting slightly as he looked up at the older man. "Not too rough—please," he panted out.

"Get back on my cock Charles," Erik grit out, forcing the younger man's head back down. Charles opened his mouth and took him back in, causing Erik to groan out once more. "Yes Charles," he rasped out, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the pillow. He loosened his grip on his student's hair, but continued to move the young man's head up and down with his hand.

He was in control of this—not Charles.

"_Yes_," Erik gasped out, his eyes squeezed shut tighter and he came into his student's mouth. "Swallow it all Charles," he told the boy with a rasp—reopening his eyes and then glancing down towards him. He wanted to watch as Charles took all his cum into his mouth and swallowed it.

And Charles did just that.

"Good boy," Erik mumbled, breathlessly, "that's my good boy…"

…

Lighting his cigarette, Erik propped his head against the backboard as he blew out a cloud of smoke. Charles watched him— on his side and head propped up on a bent elbow.

"What are you looking at?" Erik asked as he took another drag—not looking at the boy.

Eyes staying on his teacher, Charles replied: "You."

"Why?"

"You're good looking—I like looking at you."

Erik closed his eyes as he exhaled, tipping his head back more against the backboard. "Well stop—it's weird."

Charles smiled. "Good night Erik," he said before leaning up to kiss the older man.

But Erik pulled away before he could. "Don't kiss me when I'm smoking," he told the young man. Charles' eyes went sad, he looked hurt. Sinking back down, he turned his back on the older man, closing his eyes and preparing for sleep.

Fucking fine, he won't kiss him. Ever.

Erik sighed. "I'm sorry Charles." He didn't sound very sorry though. He looked down at the teenager's back. "I just didn't want you to burn yourself on my cigarette." Yeah, that was the reason.

A shrug, (Erik gritted his teeth) "S' fine," Charles mumbled, keeping his back to Erik. He didn't need to be loved—he was use to it.

"Damn it Charles, I'm trying to apologize to you," Erik bit out. He stubbed his cigarette out and turned slightly to look over at Charles. "You don't have to give me fucking lip about it."

"I said it's _fine_," Charles snapped at him, never turning his body to look at the older man. He gazed harshly across Erik's bedroom.

"Fucking Christ, you're acting like a damn child," Erik muttered as he leaned back against the headboard again. Charles said nothing. Erik then turned the light off on the bedside table and sunk down himself, turning his back on the young man and huffing.

Fucking teenagers.

A couple minutes passed before Erik felt the bed shift and an arm slinked around his waist. He gritted his teeth very hard and tensed his body. He wanted to yell at Charles to get the fuck off him, but he just bit the inside of his cheek instead. Charles buried his face into his teacher's back, exhaling a breath and sighing at the same time.

If he starts fucking crying Erik really will shove him off of him. Erik doesn't need that shit—he's had enough tears in his life.

"Love you Erik," the boy mumbled.

A sigh.

"No you fucking don't."

…

The next day, Sunday night to be specific, Charles showed back up at Erik's. Unannounced and uninvited.

He seemed to do that.

"What do you want Charles?" Erik asked as he looked down at his student. He was sure he'd gone home for the day. Erik wanted just one day of fucking peace.

One day to not be himself.

Thank god Charles didn't shrug—Erik was positive he'd smack him if he would've. Pushing past Erik, Charles made his way inside. "I told my parents," he said matter-factly. He turned and looked back at his teacher unperturbed.

This time Erik really did have to resist the urge to smack him. "_What_," he said through clenched teeth, "did you just say?" He kept his distance from the boy. It was better for the both of them.

And this time Charles did shrug. Erik's hand trembled lightly and he took a step back as he closed his door. He really didn't want to hurt the boy.

"I told my parents about us," he said again, looking straight at Erik.

Erik was seething. "_What_?" He sneered out. Fuck it— he was going to beat the shit out of this kid—he had to get him out of his apartment.

Now.

And yet Charles still looked like he could give a shit less. "I told them. I walked straight up to both of them and said: Sharon, Kurt—I'm fucking my 31 year old German teacher, and I love him." Now Erik's whole body was shaking with rage. He took a step back until his back was to the door, clenching his fists by his sides. He was going to fucking kill this kid.

"And you know what they said to me Erik?" He cocked his head slightly at his teacher. Erik didn't answer—he just continued to stare at Charles like he was going to rip his head off—so Charles went on. "Well first, my mother just said: that's nice Charles, not even looking up from the drink she was pouring and my step-father just sighed, not looking away from his newspaper and told me if I was trying to get attention I should try jumping off a bridge instead."

Eyes still focused hard on the brunet, Erik let out a slow breath as all that sunk in. "And why," he asked steadily, "do you tell them exactly?"

Charles shrugged, "To prove to you that I love you."

…

"You like pissing me off Charles?" Erik grinded out between harsh breaths. He held Charles' face down against his bed, fucking into the brunet unforgivingly. "You like when I fuck you like this?" He kept his other hand on the boy's waist, snapping his hips and driving his cock into Charles from behind.

"_Yes_," Charles groaned out loudly, burying his face into his teacher's still soiled sheets, "I love when you fuck me when you're angry." Erik pulled back and released his hold on Charles' hair. He straightened up and fucked into him with both hands on the boy's waist now. "You little shit," he grit out, quickening his thrust. Charles moaned out loudly as he spilled his seed all over his teacher's bed sheets.

Erik dumped his own contents inside of Charles' ass before he pulled out harshly and got off the bed. He walked over to his dresser and grabbed his cigarettes. He lit one up and looked back at his quivering student.

"Wash those fucking sheets when you're done recovering—I'm tired of sleeping in cum stains," he told the boy unkindly before stepping in his bathroom and closing the door.

…

A week or so later, Erik started to realized that what he got himself into was more serious then he planned. He was walking out to his car after school one day, trying to avoid being seen by Xavier, when he spotted the boy.

Only he was up against a dumpster and being held there by Alex Summers.

Erik knew Summers—he was a troubled kid (weren't they all?), not very bright and on the fast path to a fast food job for the rest of his life if he didn't get his shit straight. He was a bully if Erik ever saw one—he wondered just what shit the kid had been through to make him act the way he did. He spent more time in detention than Erik thought possible—which didn't fucking make any sense to Erik seeing how much the boy hated school. Why would he further object himself to it by doing stupid shit like this?

Alex drew his fist back, about to send it into Charles' face again when he felt a hand on him and next thing he knew he was being flung backwards.

Erik pinned Summers against the wall and sneered at him: "If I ever see you lay a finger on that boy again I'll fucking rip your head off and shove it so far up your ass you'll be able to see your stomach." Summers' eyes went wide and he nodded curtly. Erik released his hold and Alex dropped back down to the ground. He took one look over at Xavier before he beat feet the fuck out of there.

Timidly, Charles approached his teacher. "Thank you," he said softly. Erik turned back to Xavier and his bruising eye. "I didn't do it for you," he said gruffly, but Charles just smiled. "I know," he lied.

Erik looked uncomfortable. He looked around for a moment before he looked back at Xavier and that fucking stupid smile. "Quit fucking smiling at me."

Trying his hardest to wipe the smile off his face, Charles just said: "K." Erik looked around once more, making sure no one had just seen him threaten a student before he turned and took off.

"Erik," Charles called out to him before he got far. Erik tensed and turned back slowly. He said nothing though—he just looked at the boy.

"Can I come over tonight?"

"No."

Charles frowned. "Why not?"

He wanted to sigh—he really did. This kid asked too many fucking questions. "Because I want to be alone."

"Is this because Alex was beating me up?" Charles took a step closer to his teacher, "Because he had a perfectly good reason to be."

Jesus fuck. Erik didn't have the patience for this. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why," he asked through gritted teeth, "did he have a good reason for beating the shit out of you?" He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know. Maybe Xavier made a pass at him—clearly Summers was not gay.

"I promised him I would help him pass his Geology quiz," Xavier shrugged, "I didn't. I couldn't help him—he's un-teachable." Yeah, Erik could relate to that.

"Maybe you should try sleeping with your Geology teacher too—that might get him a passing grade," Erik said unkindly. He really wanted to not be there anymore. Charles frowned again—in fact—he looked fucking hurt. "What's that suppose to mean Erik?" He was pouting now too, Christ.

Fuck. Erik sighed. He looked around again before he addressed Xavier. "It means I think we should stop… this—stop seeing each other," or what the fuck ever it was called that they were doing, "I… I don't want you to come over anymore Charles," fuck, now Xavier looked like he was going to cry, "I'll let you pass my class—I don't care about that anymore—I just don't think we should see each other anymore," the sooner he get's Xavier his passing grade the sooner the kid can go off to college and be out of Erik's life—he really didn't want to ruin this one. It wasn't Charles' fault that Shaw had ruined-

"Erik," Charles said on a sob, "What do you mean? Why are you doing this?" Tears started streaming down his face.

"It's best for the both of us," Erik told him. Truthfully.

"No," Xavier was shaking his head now, tears still rolling down his cheeks, "you can't do this—I love you."

"You don't fucking love me Charles," Erik snapped. He covered his face with his hands before dragging them down. When did all this become so fucked up?

The second it started.

"I _do_ love you," Charles sobbed out quietly.

"Then I'm doing you a favor," Erik said and then walked away.

…

Erik jerked off that night and thought about Charles. He cursed and nearly put a hole in his wall afterwards.

…

Luckily the next day was a half day—but this also meant that Xavier was in his last class of the day. What if the boy tried to stay after and talk to him? There'd be no: "I have another class to teach, get the fuck out of here," excuse.

He may very well be fucked.

Erik wrote a sentence on the whiteboard with his dry-erase marker and asked if anyone could translate it into German. He thought about writing: _I hate my fucking life and I hate all of you, go eat shit and fucking die you little fuckers_, but decided that may be a bit rash. If he were going to get fired, he wanted to go out with a bang—he could do better than writing inappropriate shit on the whiteboard.

When Erik turned around, he half expected to see Xavier looking all mopey and sad as shit, like a rejected high school student would (he'd managed to avoid the boy's eyes so far since class started ten minutes ago). But what he saw instead nearly made him drop his marker.

Curling one side of his lip up, Xavier smirked at his teacher as he brought his pen up to his mouth—he then stuck it between his lips…and sucked on it. He'd been waiting for Erik to look at him ever since class started.

Swallowing heavily, Erik's eyes darted away from Xavier. He called on one of his student's who had their hand up and listened as they attempted to translate his sentence.

Somewhere in the middle of Bobby butchering: Good day, how about this weather we're having? Erik's eyes drifted back over to Xavier. The boy smiled again, sexually, and stuck the tip of his pen back into his mouth. He sucked lightly on it—his eyes searing hotly into his teacher's.

Erik felt his heart rate jump and he had to inhale a sharp breath—quietly though—he couldn't let his student's know that he was fighting a losing battle against his body not to get a hard-on. He watched as Charles then rolled the pen around on his bottom lip slowly, poking his tongue out just enough so that the tip pressed against the pen, before the boy just finally stuck it back into his mouth and sucked on it again—never taking his eyes off Erik's.

At some point, Erik realized that Bobby had finished translating so he told him 'very good', which earned quite a few looks from his more advanced student's as he went to go sit down at his desk.

He had to sit down—Xavier created quite a problem for him. Now he swore he was going to fail the kid just for fucking with him.

Erik had decided that that was enough writing on the whiteboard, and told his class to break into groups and translate the sentences in the back of their books. He didn't care which ones. He also managed not to look at Xavier for the rest of the period—not even when he heard the boy laugh out loud at something that Sean had said. Undoubtedly he butchered one of the sentences—probably on purpose too—that boy would do anything to get a laugh out of other people. Someone's always gotta be the class clown.

When the bell finally rang, dismissing classes for the day, Erik looked up from the papers on his desk and said as coolly as he could: "Xavier—after class."

…

"You think you're fucking funny huh?" Erik bit out as he rocked his hips and held Charles' face to his cock, "You like giving me fucking boners in the middle of class?" He drove his cock deeper into the boy's mouth.

Charles looked up at his teacher from his knees, and hummed out in agreement as he sucked Erik off.

Erik had his back up against the side wall, away from the window on the door, and the door securely locked. He'd also turned the out lights, and if that wasn't a big enough sign for other teacher's to fuck off, Erik didn't know what was. Not that Erik had regular visitors or anything—he would hardly call what he had with the other Language teacher's a friendship. Maybe Logan—but he would be it. Erik got along with him and his sour moods just fine. Although he still had no idea why the man was teaching French—he seemed more suitable for something like Gym Class or Weight Training—he swore the man would make quite the terrifying Drill Sergeant.

Grunting, Erik reached down and carded his fingers through Xavier's hair until he had the back of the boy's head completely in the palm of his hand, he started forcing his head forward more, getting more of his cock into the teenager's mouth he could. Charles started gagging, but he never pulled back or stopped sucking—he just continued to take all of Erik's cock he could.

"Yes Charles," Erik ground out, "you're such a good little cock-sucker, aren't you?" He looked down hotly at his student, "you like having my cock in your mouth—you fucking little tease," he rasped. Charles moaned around the cock in his mouth and met Erik's eyes with his own. "Fuck you're such a bad little student," Erik hissed out, picking up pace and thrusting into the brunet's mouth. Charles moaned again and Erik reached his other hand down to hold Xavier's head still, "and now you're gonna take all this," he chewed out as he started coming into Charles' mouth, "for fucking with me during class," he thrust his hips a few more times before stilling—his legs going wobbly and his breath straining.

He looked down at Xavier while he caught his breath, running his hand through the teen's hair a couple of times.

Slowly, Charles slid the cock out of his mouth and wiped the saliva from his lips and chin, meeting his teacher's gaze.

"Does this mean we're back together?"

…

Erik glanced over at the boy by his feet. "Are you making dinner tonight?" Charles rolled his head on the back of the couch to meet Erik's gaze. He shrugged. "You want me to?"

Looking back over at the t.v, just so he could focus on something besides Charles' shrugging, Erik placed his foot in his student's lap and replied: "If you want to—I assume you're staying the night again," of course he's staying the night—it was Friday—it's not like Charles had any friends or anywhere else he could be. No—he was going to bother Erik. Probably for the rest of Erik's life too—however short that may be. "It's either that or we're ordering out again," he glanced back to Charles, who was now focusing on the t.v as well, "and I'm kinda getting tired of Chinese and pizza," he added.

Charles started rubbing Erik's foot, "Me too," he agreed boredly. Erik wondered if the boy was even listening.

"I don't want grilled cheese again," Erik told him, outstretching his other foot and placing it in Charles' lap as well, "Or mac and cheese," he was getting tired of all the fucking creative things Charles could do with cheese. Looking back over at the older man, Charles gave him a _look_. "We'll have to go shopping then—we don't have that much in the fridge." We? When did this become a _we_ thing? Charles needed to get that out of his head right away.

"So then go shopping," Erik said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back more on the arm of the couch. Charles gave pretty good foot rubs, he'll give him that. "Take my car," he added with a muttered.

"I don't have a license," Charles told him. He ran his other hand up Erik's leg.

Fuck. That's right—he is still just a kid. Although Erik thought most sixteen year olds had their license. Guess this one didn't. He kept his eyes closed. "How do you get here then Charles?"

"I take the bus."

"So then take the bus to the store." Jesus, why was this so difficult?

"I'd really prefer not to have to lug bags of groceries on and off the bus." How much was he planning on buying? Fuck.

"So then take my car," Erik said, trying very hard not to snap at the boy, "I really don't fucking care if you have a license or not."

There was a moment of silence between them.

Charles looked over. "I'll need money."

Erik sighed. Of course he would. "Take my card."

…

"When Charles returned, Erik was on his second drink. "What did you get?" He eyed the young boy as he made his way into the kitchen. "Chicken," Charles called out from the other room, and then: "Can I make a drink?"

"You're not 21," Erik replied, making no more to get off the couch. Charles stuck his head out the kitchen door. "Since when did age matter to you?" he smiled cheekily.

Erik tightened the grip on his glass. What a fucking low blow. He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to shatter his glass against the wall and tell Charles to get the fuck out. Clearly the boy was joking, but Erik saw no laughing matter in it.

"Fine Charles, you can have a fucking drink. But I don't want you to get all drunk and cry and tell me you love me and shit like that." Erik really hated the emotional drunks—they're always such a buzz-kill.

Charles frowned. "Fine, I won't get drunk and tell you I love you," he turned back to go into the kitchen, "I'll just tell you I love you now while I'm still sober."

If Erik keeps grinding his teeth—he's going to need to see a dentist soon.

…

"Jesus Charles, are you drunk?" Erik looked down at his student.

Coming off of Erik's cock, Charles seemed to take offensive to that. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"You keep scrapping me," he told the young boy, "less teeth Charles, fuck." Normally the teen is much better than this.

"Sorry," Charles muttered. He looked back up at his teacher, "Maybe I am a little drunk—would you rather fuck me?" Erik let out a frustrated sigh. "No, I'd rather you finish me off like this—I don't feel like prepping you."

"Fine." Charles took the older man's cock back into his mouth and began sucking again—careful not to use his teeth. "That's good Charles," Erik groaned out, "much better."

Erik thrusts his hips lightly in rhythm with Charles' head movements, placing his hand behind the young man's head and drawing him closer with every bob. "Touch yourself Charles," he rasped out, "I want to watch you jack-off while you suck my cock."

Pulling off his teacher's cock again, Charles said between breaths: "I was hoping you'd be willing to return the favor again and suck me off as well." He looked up at Erik from his knees.

Fucking Christ.

"I really don't want to tonight Charles," he told the boy, "I was hoping to go to bed after this." He brought Charles back closer to his cock. He was already drunk and tired; he really didn't want to have to suck his student off again—he already did it that one time.

"Fine," the brunet muttered before taking Erik into his mouth again. He reached down and undid his own pants—pushing them down just enough to pull his cock out. He started stroking himself off as he sucked Erik's cock.

"So hot Charles," Erik rasped out, watching as the teenager worked both his cock and Erik's, "gonna come soon—don't stop touching yourself." Charles moaned around Erik's cock, 1) because his teacher's words made him, and 2) because his own release was building from him touching himself.

Erik groaned out: "Fuck Charles," when he came down his student's throat, grasping the wall and the side of his dresser as he finished his orgasm. Charles' head kept bobbing as he worked his way through his own release—shooting his seed all over Erik's carpet.

"Slow down Charles," Erik gasped out, trying to still the boy's head, "I'm getting sensitive." Charles flashed his eyes up to the taller man before pulling off his cock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and breathed heavily as he watched his teacher strip out of his remaining clothes and make his way over to the bed. "Should I clean-up the mess I made all over your floor?"

"Fuck it—just leave it—you'll get it in the morning," Erik said as he lay down and pulled the covers up and over him. "Just come to bed—I don't want that light on."

Looking down at his seed once more, Charles stood and made his way over to the bed to join Erik. He stripped out of his clothes too, leaving just his boxers as he climbed in after his teacher. Erik was lighting a cigarette. "Just give me a minute to smoke this and I'll get the light," he told the younger man.

"I could have cleaned the mess while you were smoking," Charles told him, watching as Erik inhaled.

He shook his head, "No," he said on the exhale, "I'd be done before you got that cleaned—just leave it for tomorrow." Charles rolled on his side and propped his head up as he watched his teacher smoke. "Why wouldn't you suck me off?" He asked after a moment. Erik finally looked down at him. He took another drag. "Because I didn't want to." At least he was being honest.

"That's kind of selfish—don't ya think?"

Erik almost shrugged; instead he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on his nightstand. "Good night Charles," he reached for the light.

"I think you're being an arse."

Erik's hand stopped. He turned back and looked at his young student. "Pardon fucking me?" Charles sat up all the way now, leaning against the headboard like Erik. "I said I think you're being an arse."

Laughing smally—with no humor, Erik looked at the young man in his bed. "Is that so?" Who the fuck did this kid think he was? Erik had half a mind to throw his ass out and tell him to go back to his shitty home life. He didn't need this—he didn't need some smartass kid living with him—telling him that he was an ass.

Even if it was true.

"I gave you a foot massage, I went to the store, I cooked dinner, I did the dishes AND I gave you a blowjob," he crossed his arms over his chest and looked sternly at Erik, "and you couldn't even have been bothered to return the favor? I wasn't asking for anything outrageous—just a fucking blowjob!" He looked away.

Jesus, what did this kid want from him? "You got off—did you not?" He's pretty sure he remembers Charles ejaculating all over his carpet not too long ago. What was the boy complaining about? Fuck.

"That's not the point," he looked back at his teacher, "It just would've been nice for you to have…you know what, just …look, just fucking forget it." Charles turned his back on Erik and sunk down to the bed. "Good night Erik," he bit out.

Looking at his student a moment longer, Erik finally turned back and shut the light off. He really didn't fucking get what was wrong with Charles. Fucking teenagers and their hormones, goddamn it.

A moment or two passed.

"Love you."

Erik sighed.

…

He noticed Xavier coming up to his desk with paper in hand—he really hoped the kid wouldn't do or say anything stupid—not in front of the class please. Charles smiled as he approached. "Mr. Lehnsherr," he started with a hint of smugness, "I was having a hard time with this sentence," he said, pointing to his paper.

It had nothing to do with German.

Erik swallowed and shifted in his chair as his eyes skimmed over the message again: _I've been a naughty student and I think I need to stay after school so you can spank me over your desk_.

Fucking. Xavier.

Erik tightened his grip on the edge of his desk, willing himself _not_ to get a boner at the thought of Charles, bare assed, and bent over his desk. He would do more than just spank him—that was for sure.

Grabbing his own pen, Erik said: "Here, let me show you what it translates into," and wrote down: _I swear to fucking god I will throw you out of my class if you keep this shit up_, before he looked up at his student and faked a smile. "Understood?" He asked. Charles nodded. He returned to his desk and didn't bother his teacher for the rest of class.

He did however, suck on his pen and bottom lip more times than called for and when he turned his paper in after the bell rang, he placed it face down on Erik's desk with a wink and then left the classroom.

Erik waited until every last one of the little fuckers was out of his room before he dug up Xavier's paper and turned it right-side up.

He cursed.

There, on the bottom of his paper, was a very crud drawing of a cock shooting cum all over a boy's face.

And damn it Xavier could draw— it was very realistic. There was also another note;

_I want you to do this to me after school, right here in your classroom. I hope these desks can take being fucked on_.

Erik crumbled the paper under his hand and closed his eyes as he took in a couple calming breaths. Student's for his next class were already filing in and he really needed to get his boner under control.

Fucking Xavier. He was going to make him pay for this. He looked up at the clock—wonderful—three more fucking classes to go. He always wanted to teach all day with a hard-on. Fuck. He crumbled up Xavier's paper more and shoved it into the back of his desk drawer before marking down a C+ next to his name.

And he was lucky to get that.

…

"Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes," Charles panted out, gripping onto the tiny desk as it shook back and forth violently.

"Shut the fuck up Charles," Erik chewed out from behind him, "Just because the door is closed doesn't mean someone won't hear you." He held onto the back of his student's shirt as he drove his cock into him repeatedly—his pants around his thighs.

Charles' pants at least made it to his ankles as he bent over the desk more—taking all of Erik's cock he could. "Sorry," he rasped out, sweat forming on his forehead, "your cock just feels so fucking good inside me." Erik groaned at that, picking up speed and fucking into the boy quicker.

"Feel good Charles? You gonna come?" Erik asked around his own shallow breathing. Charles shook his head and then lowered it closer to the desk as he gasped out: "No, you're not hitting the right spot."

"Fuck," Erik bit out, "hold on." He then shifted, pulled the younger man's ass back closer and tried a different angle. Xavier moaned out loudly and Erik slapped a hand over his student's mouth. "Shut the fuck up Charles," he hissed out again, still snapping his hips and covering Charles' back with his chest and he drove his cock into him. Charles nodded his head, Erik's hand still around his mouth, and let out a softer moan. Satisfied, Erik removed his hand and straightened back out, fucking into the brunet swiftly.

"Getting close Charles, gonna come soon—you need to hurry up," he told the younger man as his breath started coming out in pants. "Close," Charles breathed out, pressing his forehead to the surface of the desk, "Just keep fucking me like that." Erik really wished the boy wouldn't say such filthy shit like that when he was fucking him—it wasn't helping him last any longer.

"Hurry up Charles," he rasped.

Charles cried out softly and then bit on his bottom lip as he came messily all over the side of the desk and the floor.

"Jesus Charles," Erik bit out as he reached down and squeezed the base of his cock. "On your knees now—I'm gonna give you want you wanted you little slut." Xavier was quick to slide down off the desk and onto his knees. Erik aimed and ran his hand over his cock as he shot his seed all over the boy's face. Charles stuck his tongue out, just like in the drawing, and caught as much of Erik's ejaculation he could.

After a moment of catching his breath, Erik looked down at his cum covered student. "Just to let you know," he said as he zipped back up, "I gave you a C+ for that paper." Charles frowned, wiping the semen off his face with his coat. "C+? That's all that was worth to you?" He thought he earned better than that.

Erik smiled (and it was probably the first real one Charles had seen) "I'll change it to a B+."

…

Thank fuck there were only two weeks left until the semester was over—then Xavier would be out of his class and these fucking notes and sexual looks would stop. Erik was getting real tired of teaching class with a semi-hard. There were only so many times in a week he could sit at his desk all period and tell the class to work from their books.

He was going to run out of assignments.

His first mistake that day was turning around and meeting eyes with Xavier—he should have just called on someone from the opposite side of the room to translate his sentence—but no—he just _had_ to look over in Xavier's direction.

He was probably doing it on purpose and just didn't realize it yet.

The boy was looking intently at his teacher, eyelids hooded with lust (and how was nobody but Erik noticing this?) as he rested his head in his hand. And of course he had that blasted pen to his mouth again. He was running it lazily along his bottom lip as he watched his teacher.

Fuck—he was going to be the death of Erik sooner or later.

Swallowing, Erik turned his focus away—he couldn't look at Xavier and that pen in his mouth anymore—and only because he knew just _how_ talented that mouth was. Christ.

…

"I hope you fucking choke," Erik rasped out as he shoved Xavier's head more onto his cock, "you like teasing me during class you little slut? Then take all of my cock." He spread his legs more in his seat, pulling the boy closer. Charles closed his eyes and took all the cock he could into his mouth, his hands gripping on either side of his teacher's chair as he tried to choke himself on it.

Erik let out a low moan, tipping his head back against the top of his chair for a moment before he looked back down at the boy between his legs. "Fuck Charles," he breathed out.

When Erik dumped his contents into his student's mouth, he groaned out and tightened his hold on the back of Xavier's hair—forcing the boy's face to stay there and take his entire load.

And it was a big one.

After Charles pulled back, he took a couple deep breaths, trying to right his breathing before he looked over to his teacher's door. He smiled. "Good idea," he looked back up at the older man, "putting shit up on the widow to block the view," he said between pants. Erik just put his softening cock away and zipped up—he had nothing to say to that—he was neither going to confirm or deny it.

But Xavier just continued to smile up at him with that smug, I'm-a-good-little-cock-sucker, look on his face. "Does this mean you'll fuck me over your desk before the semesters over?"

…

Erik was standing outside his classroom, leaning against the doorframe and watching student's pass, hurrying to get to their next class before the bell rang. Some were by their lockers, getting shit and books out—girls of course were combing their hair and putting more lipstick and make-up on—only they would put mirrors up in their lockers. A couple of student's were playing kissy-face in the corner—Erik was suppose to say something to them—it was his duty as a teacher after all—but he didn't find it in him to fucking care.

And like he had any room to talk about doing inappropriate shit during school hours—fuck—he'd lost track of how many times Xavier had sucked him off during and after school.

"Ay! Knock that off—you know the rules," Logan's (or Mr. Howlett, depending on if you're a student) voice came booming as he made his way closer to Erik, "Save make-out time for when you're at home with the door closed." The student's scattered (they didn't need to be told twice by Mr. Howlett) as Logan came up and leaned against the wall next to Erik. "Fucking kids," he muttered. He smirked over at Erik. "Nothing but bundles of hormones with sex on the brain, eh?"

But Erik was only semi-listening now, he grunted a response as he watched the McCoy kid make his way up to Charles' locker (God must really have a sense of humor because he put Xavier's locker right outside Erik's room—but he already knew this—he knew this the first day he ever noticed Xavier).

"Hey," Hank said coyly. Charles replied with a smile. "I've missed hanging out with you after school," McCoy said nervously, "Chess club just isn't the same without you."

Xavier smiled again and reached out to touch Hank's arm as he spoke to the other boy. Erik tensed.

"Oh Jesus," Logan muttered. He must have been watching the same thing Erik was. "Here these two go again—I thought I was done having to watch this gay shit." Now Erik had his attention. He turned to his fellow teacher (while still keeping his gaze on Xavier and McCoy). "What do you mean?" He questioned. What was that suppose to mean? Logan huffed, still looking at the two teens. He nodded in their direction. "These two—I've caught them sucking face one too many times for my liking—I wish they'd just save that shit for after school where I don't have to see it."

Erik wanted to ask when the last time Logan had caught them kissing was, but realized that would be a terrible fucking idea—Jesus Lehnsherr—try and give yourself away while you're at it, fuck. So he kept his mouth shut and let his blood boil instead. He wanted to run over there and rip McCoy away from Charles and growl at him—tell him to fuck off—much like he did with that Summers kid.

And he really had no fucking idea why he wanted to do this either.

Charles reached up and ran a hand through Hank's hair. "I'm sorry Hank," he muttered too softly for Erik to hear, "I've just been busy," he then shifted his eyes over to his teacher to make sure he was watching before he leaned up (Hank had a good few inches on him, like most his classmates) and placed a soft kiss to the boy's mouth.

Without even realizing it, Erik had dug his hand into his thigh hard enough to leave bruises.

"Ay!" came Logan's voice right on cue, "You want me to turn the hose on you two? (Logan was always one for making unrealistic and questionable threats) Get to class!" He shook his head as the boy's separated, (Charles shot Erik a wryly look with a smirk before he took off). Logan huffed, still watching as the two boy's made their way down the hallway together. "Unfucking believable," he muttered, "and right in front of two teachers. Do these kids have no brains?"

But Erik didn't respond, he was too busy grinding his teeth together as he watched Xavier slip his hand into McCoy's as they descended down the hallway before the final bell rang.

Oh, he was going to pay for that.

…

"You like fucking with me Charles?" Erik bit out harshly, fucking into the boy rougher than he probably should. Charles cried out, buried his face into Erik's sofa and dug his fingers into the cushions. Erik's own fingers were digging painfully into Xavier's hips as he snapped his own hips quicker. "You fucking that McCoy boy Charles?" Erik rasped out in question, driving his cock into his student with speed—hoping he was hurting him.

"No," Charles gasped out quietly, burying his face further into the sofa to muffle his cries.

"I said are you _fucking him_? Erik demanded again. He sent a stinging slap to the side of his student's hip. They'll be a red mark there for days. Good.

"_No_!" Charles cried out louder, bringing his face up off the couch so Erik could hear him better. "Only you—I'm only fucking you," he ground out. Erik pumped into him a few more times, "Good," he bit out and then dumped his load into the boy.

And he'd better keep it that fucking way.

…

Inhaling, Erik tipped his head back as he let the smoke drift from his mouth on the exhale. He looked over at Xavier—the boy had that stupid fucking smug look on his face again—it made Erik want to rip it right off. "The fuck you looking at?"

"You like me," Xavier had said.

"Piss off."

…

"Are you going to pass me?" Charles had asked, almost one week before the semester was over. He and Erik were sitting on his couch, eating some pasta Charles had made—it was pretty good actually—he put bacon and olives in it. Erik had to give it to the kid—he knew how to cook. Probably had something to do with the fact that the boy had been on his own since he was nine or some shit like that, fuck.

And Erik thought he had it rough— at least his life didn't go to shit until he was thirteen.

"Yes Charles," Erik said without looking over. He stabbed a couple rotini onto his fork. "I'm going to pass you."

He needed to get this boy out of his life, and college was the only way that was going to happen.

Or so he thought.

…

On the second to last Friday before the semester was over, (only one more fucking week until Xavier was out of his class) Erik was leaning outside his room again and watching Charles with hooded eyes as the boy dug through his locker—he probably didn't even fucking need anything out of it—he was just bending over to piss Erik off.

It was working.

Erik thought about how he was going to fuck Xavier that night—probably bent over his kitchen table—that'll teach the boy to tease him with his ass. Xavier straightened up; pulling out a folder that Erik was positive had nothing in it, and shoved it into his backpack.

Then Erik spotted _him_ again. He instinctively narrowed his eyes as he watched McCoy make his way timidly over to Xavier.

"Hey Charles," he said in greeting with a smile. He touched Charles' upper arm. Erik was no longer leaning against the wall, but standing. Charles looked over at his friend. "Oh, hello Hank," he said with a brilliant smile.

Erik gritted his teeth—that was the same smile Xavier gave him. He looked around for Howlett, hoping he would come yell at the boy's was afraid if he did it, it would get him fired—he couldn't be held accountable for what may or may not come out of his mouth, or what he might to do McCoy. It  
was just too risky.

"You coming to Angel's party tonight? Her parents are out of town, she said she didn't care who came—everyone's invited," he looked down at his feet, "I was hoping you'd come with me." He didn't want to be the only nerd there—just in case it _was_ some sort of cruel joke and Angel was just going to slam the door in his face when he got there.

Erik held his breath. Where the _fuck_ was Logan?

Flashing McCoy another one of his brilliant smiles, Charles simply replied: "I'm sorry Hank, I'd love to go, but I already had plans for tonight." Erik let out his breath the same time Hank's shoulders slumped. "Oh," he said sadly, he looked up at Charles, "Okay, that's fine—I understand," he shifted slightly and looked back down, "Um... if you do happen to change your mind though…call me," he added quickly before turning and retreating down the hallway with his tail between his legs.

Xavier looked over to his teacher and smiled with a wink.

Erik looked away.

…

"I don't want you talking to that McCoy kid anymore," Erik said that night as he smoked his cigarette, leaning against the headboard of his bed. He glanced over at his student, who was still recovering and breathing slightly ragged.

"Pardon?" Charles asked as he sat up a bit. He reached down and grabbed his discarded boxers and slipped them on. "Hank's my friend—why can't I talk to him?" He knew why Erik didn't want him talking to him anymore—he was just playing coy. And it was pissing Erik off.

"You normally kiss your friends?" Erik snapped. He looked away and took another drag. He wasn't going to play these fucking games—he was too old for this shit.

"No," Charles said timidly. He looked down at the sheet for a moment before he glanced back at the older man with a small smile. "Is this your way of telling me you want to be my boyfriend?"

Fucking Christ…

"I'm not your fucking boyfriend Charles," he said unkindly as he leaned over to stub his cigarette out, "I'm your fucking teacher," he told the boy as he exhaled the last dregs of smoke. Xavier's face fell. "But…I thought…" he shook his head, "How can you tell me you don't want me to see Hank, but you're not my boyfriend?" He looked back up at his teacher, his face starting to harden with anger.

Erik looked over at him. "If you're fucking me you're not fucking anyone else. You got that? I'm not taking anyone's sloppy seconds— and especially not some fucking teenager who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. You wanna be fucked by a man—you'll fuck me."

"So then that makes you my boyfriend," Charles protested.

"I'm not your fucking boyfriend Charles," Erik snapped again, glaring harshly at his young student. Fuck, what doesn't he understand about this? Why do teenagers have to label everything? Christ.

Now Charles was getting agitated. Who the fuck was Erik to tell him what he can or can't do?—he wasn't his father. Not that his father would give a shit either way. "Then you can't tell me who I can or can not fuck—if you were my boyfriend, then yes—but seeing how you keep saying you're _not_—it appears that I can fuck whomever I want." Charles was playing a very dangerous game here—a game that Erik was not going to humor him in.

"Fine," Erik said plainly. He sunk down and pulled the covers over him. "Then you know where the door is—have fun being fucked by boy's who have no idea what they're doing." He guaranteed none of them could hit Charles' prostate like he could.

Or would even try.

Charles' bottom lip started to tremble—but that could have also been because his whole body was shaking with anger. "_Fine_," he snapped out at his teacher, who had already turned his back to him, he got off the bed and started dressing. "Maybe I will then—I don't need this shit," he spit out at Erik's back, "There are plenty of other guys out there that will fuck me and be _happy_ to call me their boyfriend!" He threw his shirt on last and stalked over to Erik's bedroom door.

"Good luck with that," Erik said to him, back still to the boy and his eyes closed.

The door to his bedroom slammed shut, as did his front door after a moment.

Good, Erik thought as he reached over and turned the lamp off on his nightstand, he did them both a favor.

…

Somewhere around 2am, Erik was awoken by the sound of his bedroom door opening. A very drunk and very emotionally wrecked Charles curled up next to him. Erik resisted the urge to curse.

So close.

"I'm so sorry," sobbed his underage, drunken student, "I'm so sorry Erik," he buried his face into his teacher's back and cried—he just kept repeating that he was sorry until Erik couldn't take it anymore. He turned and faced his student, sitting up and turning the light on.

"What," Erik bit out unkindly, "are you _sorry_ for Charles?" He stared at the drunken young man— he had tears streaming down his face and was a downright fucking mess if Erik ever saw one.

"I-I-I," he choked out between sobs, "I did what you said," he cried out and then rolled on his stomach and sobbed into Erik's pillow. Erik could only take so much of this shit—he wanted to grab the boy and shake the shit out of him to get him to just spill it already. "What Charles, _what_ did you do?" He asked through his teeth with as much patience as he had. It was running thin.

"I _fucked_ someone else!" Charles sobbed out, bringing his head up off the pillow. Fuck, he was getting snot all over it. Great. "I went to that party with Hank—Angel's party—I let some senior _fuck_ me," he buried his face again, "I didn't even know his name," came the boy's muffled voice followed by a loud, shameful sob.

Christ. Erik was too old to deal with drunken teenagers—why did he always find the fucked-up ones?

"You were _right_ Erik," Charles cried on, his shoulders shaking as he kept his face deep in the pillow, "It _wasn't_ any good—he was no good at all (he wasn't Erik)—he had no idea what he was doing." It was the worst anal he'd ever had in fact—not that he had anything to compare it to besides Erik. The senior didn't even care if Charles got his—he just got in, got off, and got out. It was over quicker than Charles thought possible.

"I'm so ashamed," he sobbed. After a moment he brought his face up, wiped it with his hand, and gazed up at his expressionless teacher. "I'm _so_ sorry Erik, never again," he sniffled, shaking his head, "I only want you." Erik just stared at him. What the fuck was he apologizing for? Erik told him to go fuck someone else (as long as it wasn't McCoy though—that would've just pissed Erik off).

"_Never_ again Erik," he repeated, still crying, "I'll never again let anyone else fuck me— only you," he crawled over and placed his head on the older man's thigh, "only you," his eyes closed.

Erik decided he needed a cigarette. His student continued to cry onto his leg as Erik lit up. He blew out his first inhale and glanced down at his wrecked student.

"Did you get it all out of your system then Charles?"

The boy nodded his head against Erik's thigh, eyes still closed.

"Fine," he took another inhale before stubbing his near full cigarette out. What a waste, it was no wonder why he went through two packs a day. "Then get some sleep—you're fucking drunk." He moved the boy off of him and turned the light off before he laid back down himself, turning his back on the teenager.

Well, he almost got rid of him.

Charles sniffled a couple more times before scooting closer to his teacher. He didn't cuddle up next to him or put an arm around him; (like he wanted) he just curled up, inches away from Erik and steadied his breathing, focusing on the older man's back.

There was finally silence after a few minutes.

"Love you Erik."

More silence.

A sigh. "I know."

…

At school on Monday, during lunch, Erik sat with Howlett and another one of the Language teacher's, Janos Quested— quiet guy—barely spoke two words to Erik, but was a hell of a Spanish teacher. That, and he was easy on the eyes—lots of girls took his class just for a glimpse of him.

Erik would never think the same applied for him—no matter how many times Logan teased him about it. He didn't care what Howlett said, he refused to believe that dames (as Logan often referred to them as) were only taking his class to just gawk at him. Surely some of them gave a shit about German. That, and he didn't see anything special about himself, he was just a normal looking guy with a fucked-up past.

Lunch was a normal everyday thing—nothing new or exciting ever happened. Sure, the occasional fight between two students broke out every now and then, but Logan and his threatening stature was sure to clear it up quickly.

Today was different though. He knew Xavier and his little Hank buddy were at the table behind them—Xavier had made it a habit of doing that about a week after they started fucking. He'd move table by table closer until he was right by Erik's.

Fucking kid.

It pissed Erik off, sure—but after awhile he'd just grown use to it. Hell, Erik used to have lunch (when he did eat—Charles is always on his ass about his eating habits) in his room, by himself. He liked being by himself. But after so many times of Howlett sticking his goddamn head in Erik's door and telling him (not asking—Logan Howlett doesn't ask) to get his scrawny ass out of his room (_"Jesus Lehnsherr, you already spend all day in here—why would you want to subject yourself further during your only break?"_) and come join him and Quested for lunch—he finally caved.

Erik was less than thrilled however; when he found out they ate in the cafeteria with the student's.

His student's.

He thought for sure there was some cool secret hideout area where all the cool teacher's ate lunch together.

Which would've explained why he had yet to find it. Not that he cared.

This day though, he had his back to Xavier (he could no longer take facing the boy—the day of the foot-long hotdog incident was the last straw. He warned him after the popsicle incident—but Xavier just didn't listen). Charles too had his back to his teacher, he was chatting with McCoy (Erik was absolutely not listening) when Alex Summers came up and sat down across from the brunet.

Erik not so much saw, as heard the boy take his seat across from Xavier. He told Hank to piss off—that he needed to talk to Charles alone. Erik tensed—he remembered the last time he had to break-up the little confrontation between the two. He was willing to bet that Alex hadn't seen him sitting right behind Charles— that or he just didn't fucking care. Kids like Alex Summers often don't think rationally in times of anger.

And he must have been angry because Hank scattered like a cockroach when the light goes on, after he gave Charles a look of concern. Xavier just told him it would be okay—he could handle himself (he knew Erik was behind him after all) and that he'd catch up with him later. He then turned his focus to the blond boy across from him.

"What can I do for you Alex? You here to take me out back for another dumpster-beating?"

Erik had to hand it to Xavier, that was a pretty good little quip—he didn't know the boy had it in him. He figured he'd just beg Alex not hurt him and tell him he'd do whatever he wanted.

Xavier was a bit of a pushover after all.

"Fuck off Xavier," the blond bit out. He reached over and took Charles' pizza and fries away from him. "So," he said as if he didn't just commandeer the boy's food, "I heard you hooked-up with that senior, John Allerdyce, at Angel's party on Friday night." He shoved a couple of stolen fries into his mouth.

Both Erik and Charles tensed. Erik probably more so than his student—he really didn't want to hear the details about the kid that Xavier had fucked after their fight—but now he had a name and a face to put it to. He knew Allerdyce too—he had him last year in his class. Erik confiscated more of his lighters than he thought possible for a kid to have—it was like the boy had an endless fucking supply or some shit. And now it was Erik that had the endless fucking supply, Christ.

Not that they didn't come in handy—Erik was smoking more than double his normal amount since Xavier came into the picture.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Xavier grumbled. He didn't even bother trying to take his lunch back from Summers—his appetite had just gone south. "Bullshit," Alex said around another mouthful of fries. He smirked at his classmate. "I heard all about it from Darwin. He told me _everything_, said you were drunk as fuck." The blond then cocked an eyebrow at the blushing boy across from him, "You even remember that night Xavier?"

Charles said nothing—he just continued to redden in the cheeks and look down. He knew his teacher was hearing all this—he just wished he weren't.

A sharp laugh left Summers. He pushed the basket of food away and folded his arms on the table, leaning in closer to Xavier. Erik's heart was racing in his chest, waiting to hear what the little shit was going to say next. Luckily Howlett and Quested were deep in some fucking conversation about Mrs. McTaggart—or—'Tits McGee', as they like to refer to her as. Erik didn't get what the big deal with her was; he kinda thought she was a cunt.

"Listen Xavier," Alex said, lowering his voice. He looked around before his eye's landed back on the brunet. "You're not the only one to be used by that prick." Charles' eyes went wide at this. Alex went on, "John kinda haves a reputation for fucking people and then leaving them high and dry," he cocked an eyebrow, "I hope you weren't thinking he was going to date you after that."

Xavier shook his head fervently, going back to looking down at the table, "No, course not," he muttered. He felt like an absolute fool. He really didn't want Erik to hear any of this—he wished Alex would just shut the fuck up already. He can have his goddamn lunch—he doesn't care—he just wanted the senior to leave.

"But Xavier," Alex said again, drawing the boy's eyes back up and to him again, "I wasn't fucking with you when I said 'you're not the only one he's done that to'," and then Alex just _looked_ at him. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

Oh.

_Ohh_

Stunned, Charles was fucking stunned. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? He didn't even know Summers was gay—he sure as fuck didn't act like it.

"Um…I really don't know what to say to that," Xavier told him softly. He started picking nervously at his sleeve. Alex just shrugged. "Just thought you should know," he looked off to the side, "We gotta stick together ya know," he glanced back at Charles, "our type."

Furrowing his brows in confusion now, Xavier just looked at the blond. "What do you mean _our type_?" What the fuck, was there a club now? He folded his own arms over his chest.

"You know," Alex had a defensive look on his face—like he didn't like to talk about it much, "guy's like us," he motioned between them.

Charles cocked an eyebrow.

"Fags?"

Alex huffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess we are fags." Charles relaxed a bit. His looked over at his classmate. "You know, just the other week, you were punching the shit outta me against a dumpster—so why are you being so nice to me now?"

If this was Alex Summers being nice, Erik really wanted to see the boy when he was livid.

The blond shrugged again (if Erik could only see that), "That was before I knew you were…" he arched another eyebrow, "you know." He must not have been paying attention to Xavier in the halls this whole time then, fuck.

"So now you suddenly want to be my friend?" Charles asked almost dryly. Although having a guy like Alex Summers as a friend sure would come in handy. He looked over to where Hank was. He knew if he did that though, he'd probably lose Hank as a friend. Summers put him through hell ever since elementary school—gay or not—Summers would never like McCoy. Those two just clashed.

Shrugging a-fucking-gain (because that's how teenagers communicate) Alex shot Charles a look. "If you want." Charles was positive this was some sort of fucking joke, and that at any moment the entire football team was going to jump out and beat the shit out of him for being gay—he really wasn't sure if Alex was fucking with him or not.

Studying the other boy, Charles asked cautiously: "So what? You want to hangout or some shit like that?"

"Yeah," Alex said with a shrug, "something like that." He leaned forward again. "You got plans this coming up Friday night? I know of another party we could go to. It wouldn't be as lame as Angel's," he snorted, "that was fucking stupid. This is an all senior party—you could come as my. .date, or something," he said quickly and then looked away just as fast, "if you want that is," he added—still avoiding Xavier's eyes.

Erik didn't even realize he was gripping the side of the table, his lunch forgotten, until Logan nudged him with his elbow. "Yo—Lehnsherr—what's up with you? You look sick. You gonna be alright?" Erik let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding (probably why his face was turning pale) and looked over to his fellow teacher. He released his death-grip on the table. "Yeah," he said on a breath, "I'm fine." Just having murderous thoughts towards a teenager.

Scratching the back of his head, Charles looked down uncomfortably. "I…I don't know," he glanced up at Alex, "Are you sure I wouldn't get kicked out of an all senior party? That and… I'm kind of a nerd.(If  
Alex hadn't noticed) Aren't you concerned with what that would do to your social skills if you showed up with me?" Really—why was Alex fucking Summers trying to hang out with Charles? This had prank written all over it.

This time, instead of shrugging, Alex just laughed. One sharp, loud laugh. "It's fine Xavier—I'm the Captain of the football team—my social skills are quite intact. I could bring McCoy over there to a party and no one would even dare think funny of it. You have nothing to worry about." He pushed back in his chair and stood. "Think about it," he told the brunet as he walked passed. He clapped Xavier on the shoulder and leaned down. "I think we could have a really good time together," he whispered in Charles' ear before he disappeared. Charles shivered as his eyes slid shut.

From the other table, Erik, who had heard that last little bit from Summers, felt his blood boil and anger and jealousy (that he didn't even knew he had) bubble within him. He stood quickly, causing both Janos and Logan to look up at him. Charles didn't dare turn around—he just let out a breath and kept his eyes closed. He prayed Erik didn't do anything stupid as Hank made his way back over with a look of concern and question on his face.

But Erik just watched as Summers left the cafeteria. He narrowed his eyes at the boy before snapping to and looking back down to his fellow teachers. Logan was still looking up at him stunned—wondering what the fuck had got into the German teacher. "You alright Lehnsherr? What the hell," he asked gruffly. Janos just sat back with wide eyes, trying to figure out what he just missed.

"Yeah, fine," Erik muttered, still eying Summers. He needed to get the fuck out of there before he did something stupid, and he didn't even know _why_ he wanted to do something stupid. What the fuck was going on? "I'm just going to head back to my class," he told the other two teachers. There was only ten or so minutes of lunch left anyway—and he no longer had an appetite for some reason.

Both Logan and Janos watched as Erik made his way out of the lunchroom. "The fuck was that about?" Logan said over to the Spanish teacher. Quested just shrugged.

Charles exhaled a long breath, Hank by his side, asking what Alex had said to him, but Charles just ignored his friend. He counted to ten in his head before he stood as well. "I have to go Hank," he told his fellow student, "I'll talk to you later." He grabbed his backpack and slung it over one shoulder before turning to leave. Hank just frowned and watched as his friend trekked off.

…

"Erik?" Charles asked timidly as he peeked into his teacher's room. Erik was at his desk, he looked like he was grading papers but Charles knew better.

"Either get in and close the door or piss off—I don't need other teacher's seeing you hanging around."

The door closed behind Charles and he flipped the lock before he made his way over to Erik's desk. "I'm sorry if you heard any of that," he told the older man softly. Erik said nothing—he just kept his head down and tried to focus on the papers before him. "I honesty had no idea that Alex was even interested in m-"

"Are you going to that party with him?" Erik asked quickly, cutting his student and his stupid ramblings off. He kept his head down, still shuffling through the papers on his desk.

Xavier was quiet for a moment. He just looked at his teacher. "I don't know," he said gently. He really shouldn't test the waters and fuck with Erik more—it was going to land him in a world of shit.

This time, his teacher finally did snap his head up to Charles. "Have fun then Charles," he spit out coldly, "but this time, when Alex fucks you and leaves you high and dry—don't come fucking crying to me." He turned his focus back down to his desk. He really needed a fucking cigarette now.

Charles was stunned. He'd never seen Erik react like that before. "I…I never said I was going to fuck him," he told his teacher timidly.

"What do you think he wants to do Charles?" The older man hissed at him, eyes back on the brunet, "Why do you think he invited you to that party? You can't be this fucking stupid." He swore to god, if Charles was just trying to get a rise out of him…

"Erik," Charles said gently, placing his hand on his teacher's desk. He leaned down closer. "Only you," he murmured, "I only want you."

He then sunk down to his knees.

"Christ Xavier!" Erik snapped out. He grabbed the boy by his upper arm and hoisted him back up. "Get the fuck off the ground like that—what the hell is wrong with you?" He hissed. Charles just frowned. "I was going to suck your cock—you've let me do it before in the middle of a school day."

"That was different," Erik sneered, eyes locked dead on with his student's. "That was when I didn't have class that period or at the _beginning_ of lunch break—_not with_ _fucking less than four minutes left_. Christ, I have student's coming back here after lunch." He released his grip on the boy's arm and pushed him away. "Get the fuck outta here Xavier." He turned back to his papers.

"I could've gotten you off in time," Charles said sadly, with a pout. Fuck, he looked like an abused puppy again. Erik refused to look his way though, no matter how pathetic he knew Xavier looked. "I've done it before," he added before turning to leave Erik's classroom.

Sighing, Erik's shoulders slumped. "Charles," he called out before the boy unlocked his door and left. Charles stopped; he kept his back to his teacher.

"Come over to my place after school," he paused, "and steal a bottle of your mom's wine."

Charles smiled at the door.

…

"You're not thinking about that Summers boy are you?" Erik rasped out huskily. He thrust into Charles again. "No," the young boy gasped out on a breath. He wrapped his arms around Erik's shoulders and bit him.

"Good," the older man huffed out, flinching when his student's teeth sunk into his skin. He let out a low moan and rolled his hips again. "You like being fucked by a man—don't you," he buried his face into Charles' neck, thrusting his hips again, "by a _real_ man," another thrust.

"Yes Erik," Charles moaned out. He tipped his head back onto the arm of the couch as Erik rolled his hips again and drove his cock deeper inside the boy with every thrust.

"Say my name again Charles," his teacher breathed out and then placed a kiss to the brunet's shoulder, "I like the way my name sounds on your lips," he fucked into the younger man once more.

"Oh Erik," Charles whined out, tossing his head to the side and closing his eyes, "Fa-_faster_ Erik—please," he could hardly take the slow speed at which his teacher was fucking him. It was by far the slowest they've fucked yet.

"No Charles," the older man said. He brought his face up and met eyes with his young student, "you're gonna come like this," he rolled his hips again, "with me fucking you slowly," another thrust.

Charles righted his head again, so that it was facing his teacher, eyes open. "You know I _ca_n't Erik—I need... I need to be touched," he gasped out the last word when he felt the cock inside him move again slowly.

"You said you wanted to be fucked by a _man_," Erik bit out, "well this is how this man is going to _fuck_ you," he pushed into the boy deeper, "or would you rather go back to being fucked by kids who have no fucking idea what they're doing?"

"No Erik," his student said breathily, shaking his head quickly, "only you." He then lifted his head up and pressed his lips to Erik's. The older man kissed him back for a brief second before ripping his face away. He started thrusting into his young student again, reburying his face into Charles' neck and keeping a steady rhythm all while trying to find the boy's prostate. He shifted his hips ever so slightly and reached down to draw Charles' hips a little closer to his.

He nailed it.

Charles let out a piercing cry—tipping his head all the way back on the armrest before slowly bringing it back to look his German teacher in the eyes, mouth open and moaning lowly.

"Is that the spot Charles?" Erik asked smugly, but with no humor on his face. The young boy just nodded, snapping his mouth shut and waiting for the other man to do that again. "Perfect," Erik murmured and then began moving his hips again, brushing his cock over and over again over his pupil's prostate.

"Oh my _god_ Erik," Charles whined out. He dug his fingers into the taller man's biceps and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling every push and pressure from having the other man's cock inside of him. "Fuck Charles," Erik huffed out himself, he drove his cock into him more, "you going to come?"

Breathing coming out in rasps, Charles opened his eyes and looked up at his teacher, "touch me," he breathed out—almost begging him. Erik muttered a curse word but reached down and started stroking the teen's cock with earnest.

When Charles came, messily, all over Erik's hand and his own stomach, Erik started speeding his movements up. He plunged his cock in his student a few more times before he spilled inside the boy, filling him with his warmth and fluids.

Still recovering, Charles tipped his head back on the armrest as he caught his breath; eyes wide open as well as his mouth. Erik pulled out of the young boy and sat back on the couch, catching his own breath. He looked over at Charles.

"None of those kids at school have ever fucked you like that, have they?"

Charles smiled up at his teacher, still breathing ragged. "No Erik—they haven't."

…

Watching the older man light up another cigarette; Charles shifted in the bed and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on a bent elbow. "You should really quit smoking; it's very bad for you."

Erik inhaled, not meeting eyes with the brunet. "You should really fuck off about it," he exhaled, blowing smoke up into the air.

Sighing, Charles rolled onto his other side and turned his back on the man. "Good night Erik."

Stubbing out his cigarette, Erik reached over and switched the lamp off before sinking down into the bed himself. "Night Charles," he put his back to the boy as well.

Silence.

"Love you."

Erik just closed his eyes.

…

The next morning, Erik awoke before the alarm. He was lying on his back so when he looked down he saw yet again, that Xavier had rolled his way onto Erik's side of the bed and was snuggled up next to him.

"Christ," Erik muttered but then wrapped his arm around the young boy and pulled him just close enough to place a kiss atop his head. He held him there for a minute, just thinking, before rolling the boy away slightly, nudging him awake. "Charles, get off me," he said, but not unkindly this time.

The brunet shifted in the bed then slowly rolled away more. He muffled out a sorry before turning his back on his teacher and pulling the covers up over his shoulder, keeping his eyes closed the whole time.

"Charles," Erik said again, nudging at his back.

"What Erik," the boy mumbled sleepily, "I'm not fucking on your side anymore."

"No, not that," Erik sat up, still looking over at his student's back. "It's time to get up—it's a school day." He reached for his pack of smokes.

"Fuck school."

Erik's eyebrows shot up. "Really?" he questioned while lighting up.

There was silence for a moment and then Charles sighed. "No—not really." He rolled over and looked up at his teacher. "Finishing school's my only ticket outta here." He frowned at Erik's smoking.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Erik glanced down at his young bed partner. "You really got it that bad at home?"

Charles chuckled humorlessly, covering his eyes with his arm. "Yes Erik," he said, "It's really that bad." He uncovered his eyes after a moment and looked back up to the smoking man. "Have you not noticed that I've basically been living with you and my parents have not yet once called me to find out where I've gone?"

Erik thought about this for a moment. He took an inhale and glanced back to the teen. "I was going to talk to you about that—I noticed a lot of your clothing has migrated over here." Like, all of it.

"What about it?" He rolled onto his side more and propped himself up.

"It needs to go back—the lot of it—you're not fucking living here." He leaned over and stubbed out his cigarette, blowing out the last dregs of smoke from his mouth.

"Whatever," Charles mumbled. He lay back on his back and looked up at the ceiling as Erik got out of bed. He had no intentions of taking his clothing back to his parent's. If Erik realized it or not—they'd already been living together for the last two weeks. He does the laundry around there anyway—why did Erik give a fuck if Charles' clothes were there?

"You gonna shower with me?" Erik asked naked from the bathroom door. Charles nodded.

…

"Mmm…feels so good.." Erik rasped softly as he watched his young student down on his knees, taking all of the cock he could into his mouth, "…fuck Charles."

Charles was soaking wet, water pouring over his entire body as he sucked his teacher off. He looked up at Erik the whole time—flashing him his beautiful blue sapphires of eyes up at the man.

Erik came into his mouth, one hand on the shower wall, and the other behind Charles' head. He let out a low groan as he filled the boy up.

Once Charles pulled away, lips swollen and cheeks stained pink, he found himself being hauled up and spun around. The taller man pressed his chest to Charles' back and reached around to starting stroking the younger man's cock. He jerked Charles to completion, breathing against his ear and listening to all the gasps and moans he drew from his student as he held him tightly against his body, his non-pumping arm wrapped around the brunet's chest.

"Er-_ik_," Charles choked out once he came, watching as the semen spurted out from his cock quickly.

"Alright," Erik said once Charles was done, "enough fucking around—we need to get a move on."

…

_Less than a week_, Erik thought to himself as he eyed Xavier, _less than a week and that little shit will be outta my classroom and gone_.

Smirking around the pen in his mouth, Charles winked at his teacher. Erik had to shift in his seat, hoping that none of his other student's were noticing that he was starting to sweat. Fucking Xavier.

Luckily, Charles was the only one who wasn't focusing on the test—he was too goddamn busy showing Erik what he was going to do to him after school.

If Erik could wait that long. He might very well be skipping lunch that day. He looked back over to Xavier.

Big mistake.

The boy now had his finger to his mouth—the pen was finally down on the test Erik knew he was going to fail but receive an A on anyway, and his head was propped in his hand—his forefinger lazily tracing his bottom lip as he looked down at his doomed test. The tip of his tongue flickered out and licked the tip of his finger ever so slightly. Charles' eyes flashed back up to Erik's as a smirk formed over his young face.

Maybe he'd fail the little fucker after all.

Charles ran his finger across his bottom lip one more time before he stopped tormenting the older man. He focused on the test he knew nothing about and let Erik be. He knew the man had a problem in his pants—his task was complete, and with only five minutes left of class he needed to give the man time for that problem to go away.

Once the bell rang his student's all started turning in their quizzes and filing out of the room. When Charles got to his desk, he placed his paper on top the growing pile with a smirk. Erik, who wasn't looking at the boy, just handed him a folded up piece of paper quickly. Charles grabbed it and walked away.

He waited until he was in the hallway to read it;

_For that shit, you're missing lunch today_.

He smiled and pocketed the note after folding it up again.

…

Wednesday, thank fuck, was a blockday—which meant Erik only had half his classes. But that also meant they were twice as long—which meant Xavier was in his class twice as long. But it was also finals, so that meanrt all the little fucker's would be taking tests all day long.

And he made it clear to Xavier that he needed to at least _try_ and make it look like he was taking his test—even though Erik had already filled it out for him while Charles gave him a blowjob the night before.

When did this become his life?

Xavier was probably being a little smart ass and trying to fill out the circles so that they made a penis shape or some shit like that. Fucker.

At least after this day he wouldn't have the boy in his class again until Friday—and that was the last day he'd have Xavier for the rest of the year. Thank god this elective was only one semester—he couldn't imagine if he had to deal with Xavier for a whole year.

He absently wondered if the brunet even knew he taught German Two.

Oh well, didn't matter anyway—Charles already had his classes picked out for next semester—it's not like he could-

Fuck. He _could_ switch. He could drop another one of his electives and try to get into Erik's German Two course.

Fucking-fuck-fuck-shit. Erik gripped the edge of his desk and glanced at the boy—wishing desperately that he could see into the teen's mind—see if he knew about Erik's other course—see if he was planning on switching and taking it just because he and Erik were fucking. And he knew Erik would pass him again— of course he would.

That little shit.

And of course Charles would be eligible to take it—Erik was already passing him in German One. (Even though he told Charles that wasn't going to happen in the beginning.)

Well fuck.

Charles' eyes flashed up and he shot his teacher a seductive smile.

Erik just gripped his desk tighter.

…

"Charles, I need to talk to you about something."

"_Now_?"

"Yes."

"Fuck," Charles sighed. He un-dug his nails from Erik's back and looked up at the taller man. "What?"

Erik stopped moving all together. He looked down at his student, still buried deep inside of him. "Next semester," he paused and Charles furrowed his brows, "you…you're not planning on switching any classes, are you?" Like, to his.

Still looking up at his teacher in disbelief that he stopped their love-making to talk about school, Charles furrowed his brows more and asked: "What?"

"Next semester—after winter break," Erik said tiresomely, (why was this question so hard to understand?) "You already have your classes picked out, yes?"

"Jesus Christ," Charles muttered, rolling his eyes. He looked back up at the older man. "Yes _Father_, I have my-"

"_Don't_," Erik bit out, cutting the boy off sharply. Charles looked confused again—and slightly afraid of Erik's sudden change of tone. Erik glanced sternly down at him—he could already feel his erection start to soften, "Don't _ever_ call me that again." He couldn't even begin to describe how angry that had made him.

And disgusted.

Charles was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Sorry," he said softly, still looking up into his teacher's eyes.

Running a hand down his face, Erik muttered out a German curse word with a sigh before he slipped out of Charles. He sat back on the couch and buried his face in both hands. "I'm sorry—I'm not in the mood anymore," he mumbled. Fuck, Charles just HAD to call him _that_. What a way to ruin the moment.

Frowning, Charles just laid there still and studied the older man. "Because you wanted to know what classes I was taking?"

Dragging his hands down his face slowly, Erik just peered over at the young boy with a look.

…

"Will you ever tell me what happened to you Erik?" Charles asked from his side of the bed.

Silence.

"No."

…

Thank fuck it was Friday—and not just for the cliché reason—it was also the last day he'd have Xavier in his class.

Ever.

Maybe his life could go back to normal again.

Normal. What the fuck even is normal nowadays? Probably not fucking your sixteen year old student and giving him a passing grade just so he'll keep quiet about it. (Even though Xavier swears he'd never do that—Erik still doesn't trust him. Doesn't trust anyone in fact.)

Oh, and they're fucking living together—that's probably not considered 'normal' either—even though Erik still refuses to believe that they are actually indeed 'living together'. Fuck Xavier and what he says—he says they're living together—Erik says Xavier's just crashing there until he pisses off to college. Whatever. It's doesn't matter anyway—none of this is fucking normal.

But what was _really_ not normal was the fact that Xavier had yet to look up at Erik with those come-fuck-me-eyes—or that he had yet to put his pen to his mouth and suck on it tauntingly.

In fact, Xavier downright was not even looking up at Erik. He was just glancing down at his desk, head propped in his hand and looking totally fucking piss-ass bored. All the other student's around him were talking and goofing off, because, what the fuck—what else were they suppose to do? Finals already ended, it's not like Erik had anything more to teach them—nor would he. But the school just fucking _insisted_ that they make the little fucker's finish the week out. Something about having more days during summer break or some shit like that.

Yeah, like one fucking day would make a difference.

Erik leaned back in his chair, studying Xavier. He wondered if it had anything to do with the night before when they were fucking and then Erik ruined it by bringing up his classes for next semester.

Fuck all—of course it had to do with that. He just didn't expect Xavier to call him…

Shaw use to make Erik call him-

Fuck. Erik leaned forward and placed his face in his hands.

Until he remembered where he was. He jerked up quickly, hoping none of his student's saw that. He couldn't let them see him in that condition—students weren't supposed to think that their teacher's were venerable, nor had problems.

Or were fucked up beyond repair.

Looking around, it appeared that no one had seen Erik's mini-breakdown. Well, at least the beginning of one anyway. Or if they did, they just didn't give a shit. Students don't really give a shit about their teacher's, do they?

Not even Xavier had looked up—he was still just doodling on his notebook—looking bored to tears and like he desperately wanted this day to be over.

Boy could Erik relate to that.

The bell finally rang and his student's started to disperse. Some of them told Erik goodbye and that they enjoyed his class (mainly the female population) and hoped to see him again next year (that Sean Cassidy kid—Erik shuddered at that one) and others wished him a happy winter break.

Charles was the second to last to get his things together—which threw Erik off. He weren't sure if Charles were waiting around to talk to him (especially considering the fact that he didn't look at Erik once during the period) or that he were really that fucking out of it and didn't even notice that class was almost over.

"Xavier," Erik called out once the boy got close. And he only called him that because the Munoz kid was still hanging around—Erik didn't exactly remember why—but he didn't like that kid. "Stay after; I need to talk to you regarding your final." Lie—that was a fucking lie.

Darwin's eyebrows went up and he spared Xavier a look before muttering to himself: "Sucks for him," as he left.

Dragging his feet up to his teacher's desk, Charles focused on his shoes. "Yes Mr. Lehnsherr?" Erik felt his blood run cold at that. He looked at the boy.

"Charles," he said lowly—almost chidingly, but in a loving way.

The boy finally looked up.

Erik waited a moment before he spoke—holding gazes with Xavier. "I…I wanted you to come by my class after school," he lowered his voice and looked around him, hoping that student's for next period weren't already making their way in, "…for, ya know," he glanced at his desk and then back to Xavier, "one last time."

Whatever funk the teenager was in seemed to dissipate the second his teacher made a sexual innuendo regarding his desk. Charles smiled slightly, raising one eyebrow. "One last time?" He questioned with a smirk, "Erik, just because I'm no longer in your class doesn't mean I was going to stop sleeping with you."

"I know, I know," Erik muttered, he looked around the boy again and then back to him, "I just meant…as my student. I wanted to fuck you one last time over my desk while you were still my student."

Making a smug face, Charles smirked when he told the older man: "Weeeell, technically—I stopped being your student," he glanced at the clock, "two minutes ago—when the bell rang." He kept smiling down at his no-longer teacher and ran a hand through his wavy hair. And Erik actually smiled back. He looked up at the boy and said: "Well, you know what I meant—and _technically_ you're still considered my student until the day is-" he looked around the boy quickly, something in the hallway catching his eye.

Fuck.

Charles, noticing Erik's abrupt halt in conversation, turned to see what his still-technically teacher was staring... no, make that _glaring_ at.

Hatefully.

There in the hallway, watching very cautiously was Hank McCoy. He was lingering around outside of Erik's door looking very nervous—like he knew he shouldn't be there and was probably eavesdropping on a conversation he wanted nothing to do with.

Erik nearly snapped at him to piss off, but then realized how terribly inappropriate that would be and that the boy was probably just there for Charles.

Waiting for _his_ Charles. Erik growled lowly in his throat.

Nodding at his friend, Charles simply told Hank that he'd just be another minute and he'll catch up with him at his locker. Hank looked at both student and teacher again before he gave Charles his own head nod.

He then glanced at Erik, suspiciously, once more before he left.

It did not sit well with Erik—that look.

"Erik?" Charles said, bringing the older man out of his trance, "I don't have much time left before I need to be at my other class, was there anything else?"

Still thinking about that look that McCoy had given him, Erik shook his head, "No," he muttered and then quickly looked back up at Charles, "No, wait," he shook his head fervently, "Yes—one more thing." The younger man smiled and looked fondly down at his former teacher (he didn't care what Erik said—he was no longer in his class, therefore he was no longer his student). "Yes Erik?"

Looking up at the brunet, Erik found his throat had gone dry and that he needed to swallow. "Are you… coming (he faltered) ho-_me_?" He swallowed again and cleared his throat. "Are you coming _home_ tonight?" What the fuck just happened?

Looking behind himself, Charles noticed all the student's coming into Erik's room now. He turned back with one of his brilliant smiles. "Of course Erik," he murmured, "where else would I go?"

Feeling like a high school student himself, Erik shrugged (fuck all) "I don't know," he muttered himself too now—he didn't even realize that his class had filled up with so many student's so quickly. "That party with Summ-"

Charles let out a laugh, stopping Erik where he was at. He placed his hand on the edge of the older man's desk, leaning in but not too closely. "We'll talk about this later," he said softly, smile still playing on his lips; "I'm going to be late if I don't get going." he teased.

But what neither of them knew was that Hank was still in the hallway, lingering around outside of Mr. Lehnsherr's class. He looked at his watch and frowned. Something wasn't right here—Charles never took this much time talking to a teacher—no matter how much he liked them.

Although, Mr. Lehnsherr was quite a good-looking-

Something clicked in Hank's brain.

He then turned and stormed off.

"Here, let me write you a-" the bell rang, "…pass." Erik smiled and looked up at his student. Charles just chuckled. "Chemistry," Charles told him. The older man just put his pen down and looked up at the boy. "Chemistry?" He asked sarcastically with a smile, "You're taking 'Chemistry', but you were failing my class?"

Charles shrugged sheepishly. "I told you—I only took this class because of the teacher," he murmured and then bit his bottom lip.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Erik shook his head as he wrote a hall pass for the boy.

…

At Lunch, Charles sat alone. He really had no idea where Hank was, but he really didn't care—not as long as he had his back to Erik. He was quite contempt eating his lunch alone.

Until Summers showed up and took a seat next to him. "Sup Xavier," he blond said, snatching a few of Charles' tater tots.

"Hello Alex," Charles said dryly, eyeing the boy as he shoved, yet again, Charles' stolen food into his mouth. If this was Alex's way of courting, Charles _almost_ wanted to see what the boy would do on an actual date.

"So," Alex said after he swallowed, "you think about what I said the other day—about the party?"

From the other table, Erik tensed. He strained his ears, trying to block out Logan and Janos' obsessive talk about what they thought Tits McGee was doing over winter break, and tried to listen in on the boys' conversation instead.

Charles pulled his basket of food away from the other student before he had the chance to make another pass at it. "As a matter of fact I did," he told Alex, "I-"

"Oh hey," Alex said suddenly, cutting Xavier off—really, he was making a _wonderful_ impression on Charles so far, "You and Hank get into a fight or sumthin?" He grabbed a few more of the brunet's tots anyway.

Looking confusion (and miffed), Charles just shook his head. "No, why?"

Summers shrugged. "Just saw him in the consoler's office," he said around a mouthful of tater tots. Gross. "He seemed real shook-up about something."

Shrugging himself, Charles just replied: "No, we didn't have a fight—I don't know what's up with him." Jesus, he probably got an A- on one of his exams. Leave it Hank to wanna throw himself off a bridge over something like that. Charles looked back at Alex. "What were you doing in the guidance consoler's office?" Well the boy did need some guidance…

"I wasn't," Alex said after he swallowed the last of his commandeered tater tots, "I was in the principal's office," he said matter-factly, like it were normal.

Which it probably was for Alex Summers, fuck.

Charles deadpanned. "You got sent to the principal's office on the last day before winter break?"

"That's what Principal Stark said," Alex smirked, "I told him he knew he wanted to see me once more before the break." He then frowned and added: "I now have detention as soon as school resumes in January."

Big fucking surprise. Charles sighed and shook his head with a small smile. "Alex, Alex," he muttered.

"So, whatcha say?" The blond nudged Xavier, "You coming to that party with me? They'll be booze," he said with raised eyebrows. Christ, like 'booze' was what Charles needed. No thank you—not after last time. He only drinks with Erik now.

Erik—crap—he's probably listening still. Charles sat up straight and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry Alex, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your offer," Alex frowned, "I probably should have told you sooner—I have a boyfriend." Now Alex's face fell completely. "A boyfriend?" He furrowed his brows, "Who? McCoy? I thought you weren't seeing each other anymore—I thought you were just friends now."

"No," Charles shook his head, "Hank and I stopped dating awhile ago—we are just friends now." He then looked off to the side and arched an eyebrow, "Although, I think he might still be carrying a torch for me," he looked back to Alex with a shrug, "Ah well, I told him not to feel that way and that he should move on—I just think he's having a hard time." Charles was quiet impressionable on people.

Just ask Erik.

"So then who's this 'boyfriend' of yours?" Alex said, as if he were already sizing the guy up even though he wasn't there. Erik held his breath.

Charles just waved his hand. "Oh, you don't know him—he doesn't go to this school even." He shot Alex a mysterious smile.

"So what—he goes to our rival's school?" Perhaps Alex does know him—if he's on the football team.

But Xavier shook his head.

"Then where?" Because apparently Alex was going to track him down and beat him up. Fucking jock.

"College," Charles said and Erik tensed even more. Shit Xavier—don't say anything stupid.

Eyes widening, Alex let out a low whistle. "Damn Xavier, I didn't know you had it in ya," he eyed the boy up and down, "You know that's like, illegal, right? With you being sixteen and all." He cocked his head, "Unless he's some sort of super smart genius who is sixteen and in college that is."

Erik prayed Xavier would shut the fuck up—he shouldn't be talking about this as is—even if it were a lie.

But Charles just shook his head again. "Nope—he's older (Erik closed his eyes—damn it—fucking stupid kid)," he smiled smugly at the blond. "Sorry Alex, I don't know what to say except I like em' a bit on the older side." Like, in their 30's older.

Putting his hands up in defeat, Alex just gave the smaller boy a face and said: "Whatever Xavier," as he got up, "good luck with that older guy thing," he clapped the brunet on the shoulder, "but if I were you, I'd be careful—you could really get the guy in a lot of trouble—and we're taking like, prison trouble."

Erik felt his face pale. He really wanted this conversation to fucking end; maybe he should go smoke a cigarette before lunch was over. He did not need to be reminded of what a dangerous game he was playing with being involved with Xavier.

"I'll take my chances," Charles smiled up at his fellow classmate, "but I think we'll be alright."

"Whatever you say Xavier." He smirked down at the boy, "But whenever this thing with your 'older man' goes to shit, give me a call," he then winked at Charles before he took off, undoubtedly to scavenge off someone else's food.

Ah, and there he goes now, over to the rest of football players—bunch of meat-heads they are. Charles shook his head and sighed. He heard one of them said to Alex: "What were you doing talking to Xavier?" To which Alex replied: "Piss off—he helped me with my Geology class—without that little piss-ant I would've failed and then I would've been kicked off the football team."

It was true, you could only have so many F's before they'd kick you off the sports teams—something about academics before athletics, or some shit like that. But it still didn't make any sense to Charles, because he most certainly did not help Alex pass his Geology class. So either Summers found himself a new nerd to help him, or he really wasn't as dumb as he led on to be.

Probably found (intimidated) a new nerd.

The lunch bell rang and Charles was glad that was over. But when he turned, he noticed that Erik had gone already—all that were left was Mr. Howlett and Mr. Quested (and don't even get Charles _started_ on Mr. Quested—he _tried_ to get into his class but it was already full. Although, when he saw the German teacher, he forgot why he was trying so hard to take Spanish in the first place). Charles looked around the lunchroom but he was nowhere to be seen.

Oh well, he probably stepped out to sneak in a cigarette before he had to head back to class. And knowing Erik, even if they _did_ still allow smoking in school (aka: teacher's lounge) Charles still doubted he would've used it.

He also made a mental note to check on Hank later on to make sure he was okay—and to tell him just because he got an A-, it was no reason to start looking for a bridge.

…

"Erik?" Charles peered into his teacher's classroom.

"Get in and lock the door."

Making his way in, Charles closed the door to Erik's room and flipped the deadbolt. He eyed the older man for a second. "You took off before lunch ended." It wasn't a question.

"I needed a cigarette." Erik was still busy clearing the crap off his desk; he had yet to look up at Xavier.

Well that confirmed that suspicion. Charles made his way closer. Erik still wouldn't look up at him. "Are you upset about Alex again?" He asked his teacher.

Erik stopped. He turned his head to face the boy. "No," he said. Charles relaxed. "Come here," Erik pushed his chair away from his desk and motioned for the boy to get on top of it.

Once Charles got himself situated, he put his feet on either side of the other man's chair. Erik placed both hands on Charles' thighs and looked up at him. "Charles," he said softly, "you have to be more careful. You shouldn't have told Summers that you were seeing an older man."

"I told him he was a college boy."

"Doesn't matter, you still shouldn't have said anything. It could still come back to get me." He looked dead on up at the brunet on his desk.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you Erik—I love you," Charles told him, looking down at the seated teacher.

"It wouldn't be up to you Charles," he sighed, "I'd still get arrested."

"I'd tell them that I love you, and that it was all consensual. They'd have to understand."

"It doesn't _work_ that way Charles," Erik snapped. He gazed up at the boy with a stern look on his face. "I would still go to jail—it doesn't matter if you love me or not—you are still a 16 year old boy and I'm still your 31 year old teacher."

"Ex-teacher."

Erik sighed and closed his eyes. "Same difference."

Reaching down, Charles cupped Erik's cheek and brought his face back up to meet eyes. "I love you Erik, I'll never let anything happen to you."

He wanted to sigh again; clearly he wasn't getting through to the kid. "Just…be more careful," he gave Charles a look, "understood?" The boy nodded, hand still on the older man's face. "Good," Erik muttered before he grabbed Xavier by the collar and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Charles leaned down and meshed his lips together with his teacher's, slipping both feet between the arms of his chair.

Breaking away, Erik looked back at his locked door, making sure the papers he'd put up to block out the view from the window were still up before he looked back to Charles. "Clothes off—now," he said huskily, "and on your back."

Charles complied quickly, removing his clothes and laying down on Erik's desk, facing up.

Once he was in the desired position, Erik gripped one of the boy's legs and let the other one hang off his desk. He ran his hand over his cock a few times, positioning it by the boy's entrance. He bent Charles' knee up (the leg that he was holding) and got a better angle before pushing in.

Charles gasped. His head hit the desk and eyes closed. Erik slid in a couple of inches, thrusting his hips with a grunt. When Charles brought his head back up, he eyed the older man. "Why am I completely naked," he gasped again, "and you're still fully clothed?" Something didn't seem fair here.

The teacher thrust in again, tightening his grip on his ex-student's leg. He flashed his eyes from his cock entering Xavier to looking at the boy spread out on his desk. "Because I don't have to be completely naked to fuck you," he gave one more quick thrust and was all the way in. Charles moaned out harshly, tipping his head to the side as he did.

"Keep it down Charles, fuck," Erik bit out. He started pumping into the boy quicker, adjusting his angle. Charles slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his cries as the taller man snapped his hips even faster—fucking into him roughly.

"God damn Charles, so fucking tight." Erik was fucking into the brunet so quick now; he was practically fucking him off the desk. He grabbed Charles' other leg and brought him back closer to the edge of the desk as he continued to move his cock in and out of him swiftly. The teen was now biting down on his hand to keep from all out screaming as Erik rammed his cock into him repeatedly. Erik had never fucked him this good and this hard before. He was nailing his prostate so rapidly Charles was sure he'd come embarrassingly quick.

The entire desk was shaking as Erik plowed into him harder, still gripping the teenager's leg as he held it bent against his chest. "Fuck Charles," he huffed out. He was starting to sweat profusely—both of them were actually. Charles was slick against his former teacher's desk, he grabbed onto the side and tilted his body up a bit as Erik drove into him hard, hips snapping and cock sliding in and out quickly.

"You like being fucked by a man, don't you?" Erik rasped out, locking eyes with the young teen, "these fucking high schooler's don't know shit when it comes to sex—not like I do." He then angled into the boy deeper, causing Charles to moan out loudly. He automatically slapped his hand back over his mouth to quiet himself.

"Come on Charles," Erik huffed, "_Fucking_. _Come_. _For_. _Me_." He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. Charles reached down with his free hand and starting stroking his cock furiously, still groaning from behind his hand. He'd gone back to laying all the way down on the desk as Erik plowed into him.

Erik came, deep inside the boy, with a low groan. Charles followed shortly after.

Pulling out a little more abruptly that Charles would have liked, Erik reached over and grabbed a handful of Kleenex from the box on his desk (it was a wonder the box _stayed_ on the desk during that) and cleaned himself up. He then tossed the box on the brunet's chest. "Get cleaned up," he told Charles as he pulled his pants up from around his thighs and zipped back up.

Once Charles was clothed again, and somewhat looking like he didn't just get fucked blind on his ex-German teacher's desk, he grabbed his backpack from the floor and looked to Erik.

"I have shit I have to do before I can leave for the day," the older man looked up, "just last minute crap before the break." Charles nodded, understandingly. He then turned and made to leave, knowing he'd see Erik later on.

He was almost to the door when Erik called out to him;

"Charles." The boy turned, excitedly, and almost got smacked in the face with a set of house keys. "Don't trash the place up. And I'd like dinner ready by the time I get home." He went back to organizing the things on his desk that survived the fucking. "There's also some laundry that needs to be done," he paused, still looking at the crap on his desk, "if you're going to insist on keeping your shit over there."

Looking down at the keys in his hand, Charles just smiled.

…

It was almost 5pm by the time that Erik had got home. Charles was just pulling the last load of laundry out of the dryer when the older man came up behind him. "Dinner smells good," he placed his hand on the boy's back, "What did you make?" and then placed a kiss to Charles' neck.

Instantly, Charles felt tingles run all through his body. He dropped the load of clothes he had in his hands into the basket and turned around and brought his former teacher into a blazing kiss—wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck as their lips glided together.

Once the kiss broke, Charles breathed out his response to Erik's dinner question. "Chicken Alfredo." Erik smiled and placed one more kiss to the brunet's mouth before he pulled away. "Finish folding that load and meet me in the living room—I'll pour us a couple of drinks."

…

Sipping on his wine, Charles set it down on the coffee table. "The bread should be done in about ten minutes—then we can eat." Erik nodded. "That's fine. I'm in no hurry." He eyed the teen. "You okay? You seem a bit out of it." He set his own glass down after taking another drink.

Charles shrugged. (It didn't annoy Erik as much as it use to) "Yeah, I guess." He looked down.

"You thinking about that party?"

He looked back up at Erik. "No," he answered truthfully with a frown. "I told you Erik—I don't care about that." He picked up his wineglass and took another sip. "It's Hank actually," he looked off towards the other side of the room as he spoke. Erik still couldn't get over how much of an adult Charles had turned into in the two short months they'd been sleeping together. Just looking at the boy now, with the wineglass in his hand, and the way he was speaking—he was nothing like the boy he started fucking halfway through the semester.

"When I saw him after school," the brunet continued on, "he seemed like he was avoiding me—I tried to call out to him—but he just kept walking. I know he heard me." He glanced over to Erik. "I don't understand what's wrong with him, he never acts like this."

Leaning over and placing his arms on his legs, Erik put his hands together and stared at the coffee table. He thought about that look that McCoy had given him when he saw Charles in his room earlier that day. He looked to Charles. "Does he know about us?"

Charles was shocked. "What? No." He shook his head quickly. "Of course not—I told you I wouldn't tell anyone—not even Hank." Erik sat back. He reached out and took another drink of his wine before placing it back down. "He just… gave me this look today," he muttered.

"I assure you, Hank knows nothing about us." Charles placed a hand on the older man's arm. Erik sat silent for a moment before he looked over to the boy. "What was up with you today anyway?" Charles furrowed his brows. "In my class," Erik clarified, "you seemed… I don't know—out of it." Much like he was now.

Charles frowned. He looked at his wineglass. "It was nothing. I just thought you were upset with me is all."

"Why would I be upset with you?"

Leaning forward himself, Charles placed his own arms on his legs and clasped his hands together. He shook his head. "Don't know—you just seemed really upset last night when I called you-"

"It's fine Charles," Erik cut him off. He didn't want to talk about that anymore. He didn't want to think about it. He was finally starting to feel _normal_ for the first time in his life since before he was thirteen.

"So you're not mad?"

"No."

There was a silent stretch between them. Erik reached for his pack of smokes.

"I'll go check on the bread," Charles said softly as he got up, but Erik reached up and grabbed him, pulling him back down and into a kiss.

Once Charles pulled back, he blinked at his former teacher. "What was that for?"

Popping a cigarette into his mouth, Erik shrugged as he lit it. "Because I can." He inhaled before blowing a cloud of smoke out and smirked up at the brunet he'd become so fond of.

…

The only warning Charles got, was a text message from Hank, and at the time, it didn't make any sense.

_I'm sorry. It's for your own good. Please don't hate me._

Charles stared down at his phone in confusion before he deleted it.

"What are doing?" Erik asked as he looked over the boy's shoulder. He placed a kiss to Charles' neck.

"Nothing," the teen muttered. He set his phone down and turned to face Erik in their bed. "Just kiss me Erik."

…

Afterwards, Charles looked over—face flushed and breathing still shallow. "I love you Erik—I really do."

Looking over himself, Erik cupped Charles' cheek and leaned over to kiss his former student.

"I know you do Charles."

…

The day the police came to take Erik away, Charles cried, and cried and cried.

And screamed.

_"No! I love him! I love him!" Charles yelled, he was being restrained himself, watching as they took Erik off, hands around his back and cuffed. They led him to the police car as they read him his rights_.

_Charles turned to his mother, "Do something!" he screamed, "I love him!"_

_"Don't worry Charles," his mother said uncaringly (probably only there because she _had_ to be), "he can't hurt you anymore." _

_He could smell the vodka on her._

_Erik looked back at Charles, just as the police officer was opening the car door for him. They locked eyes—tears in Charles' and hollowness in Erik's._

"_This is for the best Charles," he told the boy sadly._

_And_ _Charles' heart shattered._

.

.

.

.

.

Fifteen years later…

31 year old Charles Xavier, well—_Professor Charles Xavier_, now, was leaning against his car. It was a warm day—warm enough that he had his pea coat tucked under one arm and was squinted against the sun. As to why he was wearing a pea coat and slacks, he was beginning to wonder that himself. Sure he was technically a Professor now, but it sure as hell didn't mean he had to dress the part _all_ the time.

But he did. And part of him liked it. Not that he would be admitting that anytime soon.

At least he didn't wear the tweed jacket, he thought to himself. That may have been a bit much. But, be that as it may—this was still a special occasion—he wanted to dress the part.

So that was why, Charles Xavier, Professor of Genetics, was standing outside a prison gate (well, leaning against his car outside a prison gate), wearing tan slacks, a white button-up shirt with a sweater vest and holding his pea coat.

The forecast called for 40's, but it was more like 50's. And the sun didn't help either.

Also, he was nervous—more nervous then when he had to defend his thesis. But he was also excited.

Perhaps he should've brought a pack of smokes?

Do people traditionally give presents when someone gets out of jail?

The gates began to open. Charles stood up straight—no longer leaning against his car, and waited.

Stepping through the gates, 46 year old Erik Lehnsherr eyed the man. Man—Charles was a _man_ now, wasn't he? No longer a boy, but a very grownup man. He looked good too—sure he was cute when he was a teenager, but now he was all filled out in the face and his body had some weight on it too—besides his ridiculous clothing that made him look far older that Erik knew he was—he really looked good. He still had his floppy brown hair and the bluest eyes Erik had ever seen and—_that smile_—he still had that same brilliant smile that only one Charles Xavier could give.

But only Charles was smiling.

Erik made his way closer, studying the man for a moment.

Until slowly, his lip curled up into his own smile. "I told you not to wait."

Looking back at his former lover, heart beating rapidly in his chest, Charles just squinted his eyes against the sun.

"Yeah, well—I did."

THE END


End file.
